MRS31
by Fury Seven Kerrigan
Summary: After leaving Starfleet Academy, Malcolm unwittingly gets tied up with a very shady organisation known so innocently as 'Section 31'.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer... we all know it.

There are some things here that will allude to the previous story, "Preparing the Way", but it can be read separately and still make sense. To put you in a loose picture, Janie had been a rather serious girlfriend of Malcolm's, and Cory Logan was his best friend- like a brother. Cory's parents, like surrogate parents for Malcolm.

**MR-S31**

If Malcolm were to be honest with himself, re-organising the Armoury on Jupiter Station to maximise it's efficiency wasn't exactly what he'd envisioned his Starfleet career to be. He had to admit that he rather enjoyed the obsessive-compulsive part of doing so, and also it was giving him great experience in how an Armoury ran, but after serving there for two years, he felt that it was time for his life to move on.

He contemplated this as he drank his elevenses coffee whilst on-shift and pottered about his office, lacking much to do. He'd even made sure that the dusting had been done and had inspected the place for anything like that. But it wouldn't do to have the crewmen seeing him being aimless, so he sat down with some paperwork in front of him. He didn't feel useful in this role of babysitting the Armoury, and it drove him around the bend.

He sighed.

That wasn't to say that he didn't enjoy his time here- he'd made some excellent friends, though none nearly even close to that of Cory or Janie from Starfleet Academy. He'd even managed a few dates since leaving Janie so suddenly, but he hadn't found- or wanted- anything of a serious nature. He still sometimes wrote to her, but not nearly as much as he had while they'd been an item. His correspondences with the Logans- Cory's parents- had been far more regular, and still were as warm as ever.

_I must write to them in the next couple of days_, he thought to himself, smiling.

Almost in regard for what Cory had tried to teach him over the years about loosening up, Malcolm had tried to ingratiate himself more with the staff and visitors at Jupiter Station, and he had gone to parties that had been going on- those he'd been invited to as well as general parties happening in the bars of Jupiter Station- and there were frequently several going on somewhere- it was a large base after all.

Although things weren't as noisy at the moment as they could be- the development of the first Warp 5 starship at the Warp 5 Complex on Earth was taking up the time of many of the Engineers and R&D people from Jupiter Station on a temporary detachment, but lots of the same people were still needed for all the other vessels still out there- Jupiter Station was the place to go for refitting a ship, getting the latest equipment upgrades, and adding to supplies.

Because of this, there were people coming and going constantly at Jupiter Station, and while Malcolm's job wasn't entirely giving him the stimulation he needed, the many social situations rectified that for him.

Every now and then, the Armoury was needed to resupply a ship's weaponry, or to do a diagnostic on a ship to check the safety of the said ship. These were times that Malcolm loved his job- the variety still excited him, and giving each ship little tweaks and jury-rigs to make it reach it's maximum potential was very rewarding. There was no doubt that he was excellent at his job, and if he'd been considered beyond all his peers during his training at Starfleet Academy, then he had excelled himself now. Malcolm kept absolutely up-to-date with all research and journals, not only in his own fields of expertise, but also in engineering and management. He had ideas for his future, and staying at Jupiter Station did not fit in with those plans.

A Crewman had come to see him for advice about how to get to serve on the Warp 5 vessel when it was time to crew it, and afterwards, Malcolm had used this interview as an excuse to research into the ship himself. It was **there** that Malcolm wanted to be- out exploring space that humankind had never ventured out into before; to have to think on one's feet without the safety net of Earth or any Station if any emergencies came about. Yes, that was what he wanted to do- and the time was getting close for Starfleet to be thinking about manning the new ship.

Malcolm finished his coffee, leaving the dregs with the mushy remains of a fallen biscuit in the bottom, and returned to a journal he'd been reading about refracting lasers to get a different number of settings on a phase pistol.

He breathed in a deep breath to keep him awake and fresh; his friend Anna had invited him to a birthday party that night, and he intended to enjoy himself, so settled down to make absolutely sure that all work for the day had been done.

The doorchime to Malcolm's quarters rang as he finished doing his hair for the party. He went over to answer it and found Anna waiting, smiling flirtatiously, as was her way with everyone.

"Evening Anna," He said, smiling back. "Come in- I'll be right with you."

"Evening handsome," She replied, flicking a lock of brown hair behind her ear. "How was the day?"

Malcolm checked over his tiny room to make sure he hadn't left anything behind, then went over to Anna, pecked her on the cheek, getting a noseful of strong floral perfume, and gestured for her to leave through the door first.

"I'm all ready for you. And the day wasn't too bad you know- same old, same old. How about you?"

They left the quarters and ambled their way through the corridors of the space station. Anna was a bit of a flirt, but hers and Malcolm's relationship was totally platonic, they were good friends.

"About the same dear Malcolm- working in the kitchens is always manic!" Anna's trade as a sous chef was the reason for the heavy perfume she wore- constantly working in a kitchen meant that she naturally had a foody aroma about her- it was nice, but she always said that she didn't always want to be reminded of food- especially as her diet was going so well at the moment. She wasn't a large girl, but according to Anna, and after many conversations she and Malcolm had had, she used to be, and she wasn't now solely due to a strictly balanced diet.

They chatted about nothing of consequence- work, gossip in work, and suchlike- until they reached the party in one of the bars of the Station- this one being a very bright tropical theme. There were cheers and loud noises, with the strains of some upbeat music beneath it all coming from inside, and a joyful roar as someone dropped their glass on the floor along with the sound of the same glass shattering completely.

"Party's started then!" Malcolm commented as he held the door open for Anna.

"Well we'd better join in!" She smiled back, brushing her hand over his fingers holding the door open and took her jacket off, immediately beginning a very animated conversation with the birthday girl- Sasha Cooper- a friend Malcolm knew from the Sickbay on the Station- she was one of the nurses there. He joined Sasha and Anna, giving Sasha a small peck on the cheek, while both of the women rolled their eyes and Sasha threw her arms around Malcolm, kissing him on both cheeks as a slightly merry hullo.

"It's my birthday Malcolm!" She announced. "Buy a girl a drink?"

"What gentleman could do less?" Malcolm countered, smiling, extricating himself from Sasha's arms and turning towards the bar.

"Two beers!" Anna yelled as he went causing him to smile.

0000000000000000000000000

It was a good night, and everyone had a good time with Sasha getting altogether far too drunk. Malcolm was happily merry himself when he decided to call it a night. Saying his goodbyes, he left the bar alone. He stopped outside the bar to do his jacket up- the aircon outside of offices or public buildings was circulated to make a small breeze just to give it the slight semblance of being outside, and it ever so gently swayed the potted palm-trees outside the bar.

When he had done so, Malcolm turned to leave, and as he did, he saw a man contemplating him from the other side of the hallway, about 20 foot away or so, hands held loosely behind his back and a neutral expression on his face which was lit up slightly by the coloured fairy-lights decorating the outside of the bar. They locked eyes for a second before Malcolm's eyes flickered and he left.

Malcolm thought nothing of it until a week later when he was in the corridor outside the Station canteen, having got himself a cup of tea before work when he saw the man again.

He'd just left the canteen, when he felt someone waiting behind him. He looked up, and then turned. There was the same man from the party a week before watching him with the same neutral expression, his hands still folded loosely behind his back.

Both times it had seemed obvious to Malcolm that the man was there staring at him in particular, rather than anyone else at the party, and there weren't many other people around at that time of the morning.

"Can I help you?" Malcolm asked the man, with a slight note of wariness in his voice.

The man was silent for a moment, not moving, not even blinking, just still steadily contemplating him. It was only a few seconds before he eventually spoke up.

"Yes Malcolm Reed. It seems that we have a mutual friend."

He became quiet again, though whether as if inviting a question or because he didn't want to say anymore, Malcolm couldn't tell. Another few seconds went by before Malcolm broke the silence- and there weren't many people alive who could make Malcolm break a silence.

"Oh really? Who?"

It seemed to Malcolm that the man gave a very slight smile before he answered.

"A Julian LeFevre from the _Icharus_. A ship you also served on I believe."

Malcolm relaxed a bit- Julian had been Malcolm's room-mate on board the ship _Icharus_ Malcolm had served on after leaving Starfleet Academy. He had been a prolific gossip and could talk the hindtail off a donkey. He had nearly driven Malcolm around the bend and had caused Malcolm to spend as much time as possible at work.

"Yes, I remember him," Malcolm affirmed. "And you are?"

The man came forwards, and held out his right hand. Malcolm took it, and then the man said,

"Harris. He may have mentioned me- we did a fair amount of work together back then."

Malcolm tried hard to remember, and did indeed recall a Harris being mentioned, but no details other than a name.

"I believe he mentioned your name a few times, but very little else."

Harris just smiled and let go of Malcolm's hand.

"On the other hand, Mr. Reed, your reputation precedes you."

Malcolm became a little worried at that, not entirely sure as to whether that was a good thing or not. He wondered if it was Julian who had made it so that his reputation preceded him, or if he had been studied by this Harris- he had certainly been staring at Malcolm intently enough to make it feel that way.

He was thinking exactly this when Harris started talking again.

"From what I've heard of you, and from what I've seen watching you, I have been considering offering you a job, one that would be a whole lot more interesting than officiating over an armoury that doesn't exactly need an overseeing officer."

Malcolm opened his mouth to protest, but Harris interrupted him.

"The job I'm thinking of is still within Starfleet, so you don't need to worry about giving up your commission, but I would heavily advise you to not mention this job to anyone, anywhere, at all. Not even your parents, or the Logans."

Malcolm's eyebrows shot straight up as he realised that he'd not so much been watched as studied, and it worried him that he seemed to have been actually selected by this guy.

Harris smiled, as if to allay Malcolm's fears. "Here," he said, holding out a business card, which Malcolm took without looking at, concentrating entirely on Harris. "Take my card."

He gave Malcolm a Mona Lisa smile and left quickly and quietly, but without rushing. As Malcolm watched him, he seemed a very graceful man.

He pocketed the card, and took his tea to the Armoury, not taking the card out again until he was in his office with the door safely behind him.

He looked at the card- it merely said 'HARRIS' on it in a black bold type. He frowned and turned it over, but there was nothing on the other side either. He held it to the light and there was still nothing.

He made a small noise of frustration and put the card in his pocket again, sipping his tea as he logged in to his terminal. He checked the morning news only half paying attention as he thought about his conversation with Harris earlier. If nothing else, he knew that the man could probably find him wherever he was, and maybe the card was just his idea of a joke.

Two days later, Malcolm was walking back to his quarters after giving a martial arts class in the gym only to find Harris sitting on a bench near his door, reading from a PADD. He put it away in a satchel bag when he heard Malcolm arrive, got up, and went towards Malcolm, extending his hand as he did so.

Malcolm warily took the proffered hand briefly, then stood there waiting for the man to speak.

"Are you going to let me in?" Harris asked.

Malcolm really didn't want to let this man into his private quarters, but he felt he didn't exactly have a choice with Harris and opened the door, allowing him to enter first, thanking that he always kept his room immaculate. Harris sat at the desk as it was the only seat in the room and swivelled on it to face Malcolm who hung his jacket up on the door, and put his gym bag down by the laundry basket, but not unpacking it. He stood, waiting for Harris to speak again.

"Let me put it this way Malcolm, we know you're bored in your job, especially with your abilities, so we know you want some extra training to keep you occupied, as it were. We want to take you on immediately, and this will mean some aptitude tests."

"I took several aptitude tests when I first began at Starfleet Academy, and throughout as well," Malcolm told him.

"Yes," Harris said, "but ours are different tests. You haven't been through these before, even with the Academy."

He stood up, already ready to leave, but not before he reached into his satchel and gave Malcolm a PADD. Malcolm took it and looked down at it briefly before returning his attention back to Harris.

"That has instructions on it for you, and you only," Harris said, nodding his head at the PADD. "If you don't do what is instructed on it, a person will come within the week to take the PADD away, and you'll never hear from us again. But I hope it won't come to that Mr. Reed- I really do think that an arrangement could be made that would be mutually beneficial to both our parties." He smiled, seemingly genuinely, and bowed his head in a graceful farewell, and left.

The door slid quietly closed behind him, and Malcolm dropped on to his bed, still tired from the gym class. He reached over to his bedside locker for a beer, popped the cap and took a swig. He placed the bottle on the bedside table, and turned the PADD on, putting an arm behind his head as he did so.

**Malcolm Reed**

**Section B-11 of Jupiter Station- Storage Facility #3**

**2300hrs**

**Tell no one. **

It was decidedly short and to the point. _Hell of a long way of going about telling me such a small amount of information_, Malcolm thought. He looked at the clock on the wall- 1900hrs it said.

He still had time for a shower and something to eat. It had occurred to Malcolm at this point that he was beginning to get involved with some kind of secret service. It wasn't just the conspiracy theorists who thought that Starfleet had a secret service- most cadets in the Academy had somewhat assumed it, but there had only been rumours, nothing as obvious as the old MI5 and MI6 like there had been in Britain back in the old days. But certainly a service of sorts- and he was beginning on his road down there.

He sat up, a revelation occurring to him just at that point.

"What the hell...?" He started, muttering it under his breath. "What if...?" He let the rest of the sentence go unsaid- it had, after all, just occurred to him that the reason Harris could have given him such a small amount of information on a PADD rather than just out and out telling him was because he was in some way being **actively** monitored- all the time. And what if that meant someone was either listening or watching him- or both- at all times?

The thought was definitely **not** a pleasant one. He valued his privacy- he'd had so little of it growing up, what with boarding school having dorm rooms, then sharing rooms at the academy and his father imposing regular inspections on his room to make sure it was up to scratch at all times. Yes indeed, the privacy he did have was very dear to him- he needed his inner sanctum, and the thought that he didn't have that bothered him intensely.

He flicked the PADD off and chucked it to the bed at his side, he picked up the beer and nursed it, taking occasional and distracted sips of it as he thought.

_To hell with this, I'm not getting involved with it all- I don't want to be watched and inspected constantly- I've earned the right to have my own place without having to look over my shoulder. _He took a long drink, and got up to look at the fake viewport- the majority of quarters were away from the outsides of the Station because of the way the starships had to dock, so storage and maintenance bays were closest to the outer zones. As a by-product of this, the fake viewports could be modified by the occupant to show whatever they so fancied, from photographs, through patterns, to landscapes of favourite worlds- or if one were so inclined, space itself as it would be actually outside. This latter was how Malcolm had it- he found the solitude of space to be very relaxing and peaceful. This was how he liked it, and he felt that his peace would be shattered with Harris entering his life.

On the other hand... _Even if I don't show up tonight, some man turns up to collect this PADD, and I have nothing ever to do with them again, how do I know that will have left me for good? They've been watching me all this time, perhaps they are even now, even as I stare out of this viewport. _His shoulders unconsciously slumped a small way as he felt a small amount of resignation. _So I suppose the only real way I know if they've left me in peace or not is if I join them, then I can know. Then I can know what they know. _

Even with his shoulders slumped in resignation, he felt a small spark of excitement- this was different, something new, and it wasn't as if his current job in the Station Armoury even remotely taxed him- he could do so much **more** if he were only given even half a chance. Maybe this was his chance- not only could he perhaps actually make a difference, but he could have excitement in the process. _Rather like having my cake and eating it too_. The thought made him smile.

He'd made his mind up- and it wasn't like he was giving up Starfleet either. It almost seemed tailor-made for him.

He finished the remnant of the beer and headed for the shower, glancing around the bathroom as he went in, just on the off-chance that he would suddenly see a camera in the corner keeping an eye on him. Naturally, there wasn't, but Malcolm still couldn't help but feel slightly suspicious still.

0000000000000000000000000

At five minutes to eleven, Malcolm went down the corridor towards Storage Facility #3. It was well-lit, but deserted- it wasn't a well-used part of the Station, as Malcolm had discovered- it was storage mainly for emergency supplies if anything ever happened which meant ships couldn't bring in food or medication from the outside. People only really came down to check the inventory, make sure no pests had got in, and circulate the items that would go out of date within the next year.

He went in quietly through the sliding doors.

There were barrels and shelving units going right up to the thirty-foot high ceiling with ladders on railings so they could be slid around the shelves. Boxes of all sizes were piled high- Malcolm could have hid in some, and just about squeezed his boots into others. A background hum of refrigeration cabinets provided noise for an otherwise silent chamber.

There was a drawless grey metal desk immediately by the door and to the left with a grey metal-framed chair, and no other furniture that Malcolm could see. He stood by this desk looking around, eyes narrowing slightly for only a couple of seconds until Harris came around the corner of a densely stacked set of shelves with cans on.

He smiled, but didn't hold out his hand this time for the shaking. Malcolm nodded in return.

"I'm glad you decided to come after all," Harris said, his tone almost jovial- quite the contrary to how Malcolm felt. It felt like a much more sombre occasion to him, despite the flicker of excitement he was keeping hidden inside.

"Sir," he said in reply.

Harris' smile increased, but not in the most pleasant of ways- not unpleasantly exactly, but there was something that looked almost predatory to Malcolm, and it annoyed him that he couldn't work out what it was. Malcolm's expression, however, didn't change as he thought this, which he was quite proud of- his poker face had got him through many a situation, both at work and play.

"Don't call me 'Sir' Malcolm," Harris said. "In our line of work, we don't like to make a distinction between ranks- if someone is listening in on a conversation between us, they would be able to fathom out who is the senior rank, and they could perhaps stage a kidnapping to gain information because of this."

He pulled out the chair, and gestured for Malcolm to sit down.

"Please," he said, as he held the chair for the younger man. Malcolm came around the desk and sat down with his palms flat on the desk as Harris let go of the chair, crossed his arms in front of him, and carried on.

"That isn't to say that there isn't a command structure which must be strictly adhered to, otherwise there will be anarchy, and if you consider this line of work, it is extremely important that a person knows who they're supposed to be taking orders from."

Harris looked down at Malcolm from where he stood at the corner of the desk and regarded him.

"I'm assuming of course, that you have by this point worked out who we are, or thereabouts?"

Still with his poker face on, Malcolm nodded slowly.

"Yes S-", he started. "Yes." He tried again. "In a manner of speaking. You said the organisation is still within Starfleet, and so this is Starfleet's Secret Service of sorts."

Harris smiled, but this time, it seemed more of a self-satisfied smile.

"I expected nothing less of you, young Malcolm Reed, you would be correct, inasmuch as one can be. We would be an organisation called Section 31, as if you look at the original Starfleet Charter, Article 14, Section 31, it says how extraordinary measures can be taken in times of threat."

At this, Malcolm did frown, breaking his poker face expression. _In times of threat?_ He wondered.

"What threat is that?" He said out loud.

Harris answered directly. "If there were to be a threat, how could we respond adequately and efficiently if there were no people already trained to do so? It is of paramount importance to humankind that we look after our own affairs, and that we prepare for the worst, should the worst ever happen."

Malcolm nodded- he could see the logic in that. _Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. There's nothing wrong with that, although I've no doubt that people would disagree. No wonder it's secret._ He brought the palms of his hands together unconsciously as he thought this, and unaware at that moment that Harris was watching his every move in minute detail.

"We operate without any overseer, no watching eyes. You report to whomever gave you the particular mission that you are working on, and no one else. You tell no one about this, and I really do mean no one. People have died for less than treason you know, and absolutely everything would be classified. I'm sure you know what I mean by 'everything'?"

Malcolm nodded in response- he wasn't that dumb.

Harris carried on again.

"Starfleet will deny our existence until it's dying day, and then some more, but they need us. For us, the ends justify the means, we have no rules except the ones I've already mentioned. We have likened our operating procedures with that of the old terrorist cells groups of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries- we have no base, so that if anyone should discover our existence, we can literally disappear, become phantoms. An enigma wrapped in a mystery surrounded by hearsay and rumour." He smiled, wider than he had before, but still with a slightly sinister edge. "It is convenient."

Malcolm merely raised an eyebrow.

"Now then," Harris continued his monologue, "you will hear from me, and a few anonymous individuals who will remain anonymous during your training, but never anyone else. I hope you've been listening well because you now have a test."

He went around a corner for a moment, and returned with a PADD and a stylus.

"I will watch you while you are timed for this test. Write your answer in the space provided."

He clicked a button on his watch which beeped once.

Malcolm realised he hadn't even been given a time allowance, he'd just been told it was timed. He grabbed at the PADD and the stylus and began reading.

The questions were half on things that Harris had been talking about, partially on Malcolm's point of view on a certain moral situation, and partially long paragraphs of information which he had to extract little titbits of information that required a bit of lateral and logical thinking.

The completed the test in about twenty-five minutes.

He returned the PADD and stylus to Harris, who took them around the corner, and returned again, this time with a hypodermic syringe.

Malcolm sat up even straighter than normal, moving his hands to the edge of the desk, alarmed.

"Don't worry," Harris said, "I know you get this as part of Starfleet protocol, we but do a check for more than they do. It's a drugs screening. I'll just take a small blood sample, filling up these two tubes.

He did so with suspicious agility and ease, but as it was only blood going out, and nothing going in, Malcolm was happier than he would have been otherwise. Normal blood test were done in Sickbay though, and it seemed a bit incongruous done in a storage bay.

Afterwards, and it was after midnight by this point, Harris let Malcolm go with a promise that he'd be in contact next, but before he left, Malcolm had a question. He turned just before the doors slid open for him to the corridor outside.

"You said about people possibly overhearing our conversations for whatever reason," he began.

"Yes?" Harris replied.

"What about now?" Malcolm asked. "We've had something of an in-depth discussion about an organisation that officially doesn't exist. What if someone had been listening in, or had a device to listen in on?"

Harris almost showed actual delight as Malcolm spoke, which died down to his normal knowing smile as he answered Malcolm's questions.

"I'm glad you have shown the thinking to even consider such a thing! Do not worry, young Malcolm. This storage facility has emergency supplies in. As such, it has been insulated from the rest of the station- for several reasons- and this has made this storage bay a wonderful place for a private conversation. Just to be on the safe side though, I also set up a low-level jamming signal before you arrived. Such a low level wouldn't alert the station security, but keeps our conversations private while we're in these close quarters with each other. You should be able to come to an understanding of the sorts of technology we use which isn't exactly standard Starfleet-issue. This particular item gives us about a 5-metre radius of definite privacy without having to up the power level and make us known to station security."

It was a long description of something small, and Malcolm rather imagined that he wouldn't get such good information during his future with Section 31, that he would have to work it out on his own, if the test he'd had was anything to go by.

As such, he nodded his thanks, and left. He was tired, and his shift was going to start in only a few hours.

0000000000000000000000000

Malcolm felt rather bleary-eyed as he started work the next morning, or rather, only a few hours later. _Thank goodness that coffee here is unlimited_, he sighed as he took a sip of the hot stimulant- an extra large mug of it too. He got into his office, still clutching the coffee and saw a small parcel on his desk which certainly hadn't been there on his last shift. And the door had been locked- he was very particular about security.

_Considering my meeting last night, I don't really know why I'm surprised at finding this here. No doubt this is something to do with Harris_.

He put the coffee down, spilling a small drop as he did which went unnoticed. Picking the parcel up, he opened the lid- it was a small hard brown box, very nondescript- and peeled away the protective packaging from the top. It was a small communicator- very small and flat, it could probably be hidden in the inside pocket of a man's civilian suit jacket without being noticed.

He picked the device up, putting the box down straight away on to the desk paying it no attention, and immediately jumped when he heard a quiet hum from the communicator.

"Ah, I see you found our little present." It was unmistakably Harris. "This is for you," the man continued "for your personal use in connection with our little organisation, but no one else. It is a clean line using the utmost in secure channels but as I said last time we met, it is always good to make doubly sure, and so at the bottom of the package is the jamming device which I told you about- a five-metre radius one. You'll find it of the utmost convenience at times. When communicating with us, and when using this communicator, always use the jamming device. Just to be safe. I'll contact you again soon." A small hum again, and the device switched itself off.

Malcolm studied the communicator and found that it was a very simple device to use, then put it down so he could rummage around the inside of the parcel again. Underneath another bit of packaging was indeed another small instrument. It was tiny and fit inside Malcolm's fist. It had a small plinth upon which a little pole rose up like an antenna with smaller antennae coming from it like branches on a tree, or the spokes of an umbrella, only without the material. It was even simpler to use- on/off. Clearly a very basic model.

Malcolm suddenly heard a noise outside his office- other people were in the Armoury after all, so he shoved the two devices unceremoniously into a zip-up pocket, shoving the parcel and it's packaging into the recycle bin to attend to his other duties.

0000000000000000000000000

Sometimes, there were several days when Malcolm heard nothing from Section-31 at all, and other days when he'd have the briefest of conversations with Harris- always using the special private communicator and jamming device he'd been given- it was practically a habit after three weeks or so. The communications with him though were at very off hours- Malcolm had a suspicion that he was being tested on his secrecy and basic evasion skills- he would feel the hum in his pocket which was very subtle, and he'd suddenly have to find a place where he could speak in private, no matter what he'd been doing beforehand- talking to his superior, in the restroom, sleeping... you name it. Malcolm was getting used to it these days.

Harris would call in sometimes to tell Malcolm that he'd passed a certain test which Malcolm had oftentimes not even realised he was being tested on. Most recently, Harris had told him that he'd passed a blackmail check where the darkest skeletons in a person's closet were checked out in case they'd be able to be blackmailed by someone or a group of people at some point in the future- if someone had gambling debts, or could reveal secrets under duress because of some vice or knowledge that a person had on you to use to their benefit and were waiting for just the right time...

It all seemed rather sinister, _but then_, Malcolm reasoned, _as a secret service, it isn't exactly above board. And thank goodness that there's no official record about the aquaphobia- _that _would be awkward to say the very least._

About three weeks after Malcolm had had to have a polygraph test, late at night while Malcolm was doing some research, Harris arrived at his quarters. Malcolm answered the door, expecting Anna to go for a beer and getting a smiling Harris, which for some reason, always put Malcolm on edge.

"How can I help you today?" He asked the man, gesturing him inside. "I'm actually expecting a friend any minute now," Malcolm said looking at his watch. Harris gave a minute shrug, "I won't be long. I came to tell you that you've been approved for service within Section 31 and you have a beginning mission. Now as you're already a part of Starfleet, you will have done several exercises and so-called 'missions' before, so we don't need to put you on the ghost reconnaissance, " Harris imperceptibly rolled his eyes at the mention of the missions that Starfleet took on. Malcolm knew that Harris didn't think much of their missions, not thinking that they counted as the real thing. But if that saved Malcolm from doing a load of stakeouts where he spent weeks watching random strangers not doing much, then he was pretty happy with them.

"As such," Harris continued, "your first mission with the organisation is actually rather an advanced one, but we think you're just the man." He pulled a picture from his right jacket pocket of an attractive blonde woman about Malcolm's age with porcelain skin and the deepest blue eyes Malcolm had ever seen. "Caitlin Burns. She's a recent Starfleet graduate who happens to be a boomer as well- she's pretty much spent her entire life on the borders of safe space. The thing is, her family have been trading in some not-entirely-legal technology which we want to know about, as well as the information that they would have picked up being on the border for that long anyway. The barely-legal side of it would make it easy to blackmail her and her family, but this time we want to try a different tack, that being of you getting to know her and extract the necessary information we want. You have to make it look natural, and not under **any** circumstances let her know that you are working for us, or any other organisation for that matter. Totally natural." The smile had disappeared at this point at Harris got more and more emphatic. He replaced the photograph in his right pocket and took from his left pocket a PADD, looked at it briefly and gave it to Malcolm.

"On here are a list of her duties and favourite places to frequent when not on duty, with a picture just to be sure. Use this to find her. But I'd advise you as with all information we give you, to memorise it and thoroughly delete the PADD afterwards. I know you know how to do that."

And with that, he checked his watch, gave Malcolm a nod for a goodbye, and left silently, not another word spoken, Malcolm having hardly said anything at all for the entire time Harris had been there.

Once Harris had gone, Malcolm took a moment to reflect on his new life since he had been involved with Section 31. He had really enjoyed his training- it was certainly a far cry from the tedious work of the Station Armoury where he hadn't been allowed any freedom with anything and the work was too monotonous. He couldn't even help to develop or upgrade weapons, even though those areas were particular specialities for him and he had so many ideas- _and_ even though he was still very much endorsed by Admiral Hunter from Starfleet Academy. No, Malcolm had had to do everything by the book and it had reminded him so much of his father, what with the rigidity of it all, that he had almost lost interest entirely in Starfleet and working in space.

He regarded the PADD he held which Harris had just given him and even though it felt more than a little creepy to be holding the basic facts to the life of a person he'd never met but was expected to become fast friends with, it wasn't tedious- far from it, and the change was very welcome.

He was about to turn the PADD on to start looking at it when his doorchime sounded again and he heard Anna loudly demanding entrance.

"Malcolm! Lemme in! Seriously sorry for being late, you know how a girl can be!" A fist pounding on the door followed this.

Malcolm shoved the PADD into his locker at the back and under a duffel bag which was rarely used, then got up to the door and opened it for her.

"Sorry- I was, uh, in the bathroom."

Anna rolled her eyes. "No need to get yourself looking pretty when you already are!" She followed that remark with a wink and it was then Malcolm's turn to roll his eyes.

"Come on," he dragged her along, "Let's go get that beer before you feel the need for anymore flirting. It's painful!", he joked with her, the young woman next to him grabbing his arm and making him feel blissfully innocent in life.

0000000000000000000000000


	2. Chapter 2

As luck would have it, Anna dragged Malcolm to a regular haunt with a lot of the station personnel and _she_ was there- Caitlin- just sitting at the bar chatting to the barman in a comradely way- clearly a friend at work. Malcolm clocked her, but unable to peel himself away from Anna at that exact moment, he didn't 'go to work' immediately. He flinched as that phrase occurred to him- _it sounds like I'm going to invite her back for a good night! What a cheesy way to start. Note to self: _never_ use that phrase again_. He shuddered silently which Anna, still holding on to his arm noticed. "What is it sugar? Are you alright?"

Anna was full of jokes and flirted like crazy with Malcolm, but at that moment, she was serious as Malcolm normally was. She was a good friend after all, and Malcolm didn't want to worry her, but also didn't want to have to reveal anything regarding Caitlin and compromise the mission.

"Just a tough day at work," Malcolm lied. "Very glad to get off duty and relax for a while," and he smiled at Anna to make her see that he was alright really.

Anna looked at him intently for a beat and nodded slowly, pursing her lips as she did. "Okaaay..." she dragged out, clearly not entirely believing him, but deciding to let it slide for now, "In that case," she added, "you need a beer and a good night with friends. Seriously Malcolm, work isn't everything and sometimes, a relaxing evening is as medicinal as a check-up at the Med Centre."

Malcolm looked at her. At that exact moment, she sounded exactly as his old best friend Cory Logan used to and he felt a pang of loss. Anna knew about what had happened with Cory on Malcolm's first posting after Starfleet Academy, as Malcolm had shared that information on a slightly drunken evening some time ago. He brightened up immediately though, not wanting to drag the evening down, and especially as his original shudder had actually been over something quite comical, if cringe-worthy in his head.

"Come on," he said, leading Anna past the bar, through the packed dance floor where the music blared loudly making it hard to be heard, and to a table in the back of the large place where several of their mutual friends were crammed around a booth and it was slightly easier to yell at each other.

Anna squeezed in beside Ben and Alexandra from the Science Department.

"Drinks anyone?" Malcolm asked as he stayed standing, surveying the sudden arrival of several other friends as he said that. A very popular man suddenly, he counted the orders and left for the bar, struggling through the masses on the dance floor again to reach it.

He got to the bar, squeezing in beside a pretty blonde with the most startling blue eyes he had ever seen. He pretended he hadn't noticed Caitlin as he tried instead to get the attention of the barman she was no longer talking to and who was now serving the clientele. He waved a hand a couple of times, but didn't get the barman to notice him. Suddenly, a piercing whistle next to him and a "Hey! Jimmy! Over here!" caught the barman's attention and he came over. Malcolm looked to his left as Caitlin removed the two fingers from her mouth that had made the whistle.

"I'm impressed," Malcolm said. "And thank you," he smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"What'll it be?" Jimmy the barman finally came over and asked.

"Eight beers please." Jimmy nodded and started the order.

As he did, Malcolm turned back to Caitlin. "May I get you a drink?" He asked her.

She shook her head ruefully. "Thanks, but Jimmy's keeping me well stocked."

Malcolm held out his right hand, eager to make her acquaintance before she turned away and it got awkward. "The name's Reed. Malcolm Reed. I work in the Armoury."

She took his hand, "Caitlin Burns, pilot."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "It's unusual to have a female pilot isn't it?"

She narrowed an eye as if trying to assess whether he was mocking her or not. "Not really- I was a boomer- always out in space. With a limited crew, one has to be able to take on several roles. I just happened to be particularly good at the flying part. Starfleet's a good way to carry that on and become a full-time pilot without all rubbish that comes with doing the odd-jobs as well on a boomer ship."

Malcolm put up his hands in mock defence. "I certainly didn't mean to cause any offence. One just doesn't meet that many female pilots, but I entirely believe what you say about having multiple roles on a boomer ship- always sounded more than a little hectic to me!" And he smiled again, to show he really hadn't meant any offence by it. She relaxed again, smiling once more just as Jimmy brought Malcolm a tray with his order on it. Before he picked it up though, he turned to her, "Would you care to join me and my friends for a drink? We're behind the dance floor at the back there," and he pointed vaguely beyond the dancers.

"That's ok, I promised Jimmy some dinner when his shift finishes in a few minutes." Malcolm nodded and turned to leave. "But I wouldn't mind a quieter drink with you some other night," she added.

Malcolm looked at her, surprised. "Uh, yes, sure," he stuttered. "Um- tomorrow night perhaps?"

"Perfect!" she said, getting out a card from her purse and scribbling on the back of it. Here's a place I know- a good cocktail bar. Well," she added, looking around, "Good for Jupiter Station anyway!"

He took the card from her- he knew the place, but put it in his pocket anyway. " Tomorrow at 7pm then?"

"See you then," she smiled, lowering her lashes.

He nodded, smiled again, and left with his drinks.

"Hell Malcolm, you've been gone **forever** with those drinks!" Anna exclaimed as he returned amidst cheers and thanks from everyone who had a drink.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Met a girl."

Anna was momentarily speechless, which for her, was quite a feat. "Hot damn! And?"

Malcolm tutted. "_And_ I'm meeting her tomorrow for a drink."

"Excellent!" Anna exclaimed, "where is it?"

"Oh no," Malcolm said shaking his head and squeezing in next to her on the bench, "I'm not telling you- you'd turn up!"

"Of course I would! That's half the fun!" she admitted.

0000000000000000000000000

The next day, he had a table in the Blue Lagoon- the cocktail bar Caitlin had sent him to and was waiting for her with a Gibson that shone in the light. The entire place was filled with solely blue light and shadows and a jazz flautist was playing in the centre on a podium above the circular bar, glassed-in waterfalls with carbonated bubbles falling from the small stage. The rest of the band- a drummer and a double bassist were in the back of the room, still perfectly audible. The entire floor was glass with an aquarium beneath filled with tropical fish and corals, and exotic plants and waterfalls inhabited the place all around making semi-private little booths for couples and business exchanges for those from off-station. It was definitely a step-up from the bar the night beforehand which was pleasant enough, but every surface was a little sticky from general beer spillage.

The essence of the cocktail bar was privacy and beauty in one- it was typical of places on Jupiter Station- somewhere to make people forget they were on a space station with no possibility of going out.

The place was quite full already, even though it was only early evening, and many a couple were dancing in the dim recesses to the band's sway.

As Malcolm looked around, he spotted Caitlin at the doorway, not having seen him yet. She walked into the joint with an incredibly fashionable dress on- a slinky black number that shone purple as she moved, shining like an oil spill. Malcolm suddenly felt like a country hick in his cotton black shirt and trousers combo.

He stood as she approached and smiled when she spotted him, giving a small wave.

He sat a moment after she did and a waiter immediately and silently slinked towards them for her order of a fine scotch.

"You look fantastic," Malcolm said to her, most sincerely.

Caitlin gave him a coy smile and tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Thanks," she said, "though I'm not nearly as well-off as this dress would have you think. It _is_ Soveera, but my family import the material as a luxury commodity to whoever wants it- and is willing to pay of course," she winked at him.

Soveera was a naturally-sourced material woven by arachnids on a far away Earth colony. The material was of a gossamer-combined with silk which, depending on the species of arachnid doing the weaving, determined the colour of the iridescent sheen the weave would have. This was the main feature of the material which therefore made it a luxury item and was seen frequently on the Parisian catwalks with the highest name labels- and prices- to go with it.

Caitlin's drink came and Malcolm took a sip of his drink while she swirled the liquid in her glass and smelled the smoky scent.

"So tell me about being a boomer," Malcolm asked her. "Space exploration must be incredible."

"Oh yes it is," she agreed whole-heartedly. "There's nothing quite like waking up and seeing a nebula outside of your viewport or chatting to someone on one of the furthest human colonies who hasn't seen a new face in decades! I would thoroughly recommend it to anyone."

Malcolm held his glass to his lips but before sipping from it, he nodded enthusiastically in agreement with her.

"It's something I really want to do," he said. He looked around at this surroundings, making an exaggerated gesture. "But I seem to be stuck for the moment."

He took that sip.

Caitlin raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Why _are_ you here exactly? What do you do? I mean, I know you said last night that you worked in the Armoury, but Jupiter Station doesn't really need one of those, does it. We're not exactly front line defence here in the galaxy."

Malcolm tutted and rolled his eyes.

"_Tell_ me about it. I've been here for what seems like ages, but the work is same-old, same-old. I do refittings on ships, restock armaments and keep people drilled in what they need to know. I teach martial arts and weapons training too. What do you do here as a pilot?"

She finished her drink. "This is the next stage of pilot training here- proper space flights, going in and out of the system, learning how to be properly drilled in spaceport etiquette, that sort of thing."

"Having done all of this before, I imagine it's quite easy for you?" Malcolm asked, finishing the Gibson.

"Yes it is, but there are always variations when you're with a proper organisation, rather than the family business- I guess it's getting up-to-speed with how Starfleet does it that is good for me here. And I know I won't be here forever!" She seemed relieved at this, and Malcolm felt a pang of jealousy at her freedom, but it only lasted a second. "Would you like to dance?" She asked him.

He stood. "Yes, yes I would," and he held out his hand to her. She took it, and he led her to the throng of dancers swaying closely to the music in the dim recesses.

The flautist was good- very _very_ good. He was renowned throughout the Station as one of the best and he could have easily had a very lucrative career as such, had he not wanted to be a chef even more.

The two of them danced, and ordered more drinks at the bar, then danced some more, getting closer and closer as the night went on. This was a club that went on all night and only stopped when the breakfast bars opened and the wafts of bacon and suchlike entered in enticing the custom outside.

At about 2am though, Caitlin leant in towards Malcolm and kissed him deeply, flickering her lashes at him as she pulled away. He certainly didn't complain, even when she pulled him to the door of the Blue Lagoon. Once outside, with the corridor lights dimmed to the same blue effect as had been inside the bar, she turned to look at him.

"Thank you for a lovely evening Malcolm, I would definitely like to do this again sometime soon. Very soon," she said, quite emphatically and flicking some lint from his shoulder.

She had stopped their dancing and pulled him outside so suddenly that he seemed surprised at her admission- yes, the night had gone on well, but with the sudden end, he had wondered.

"Yes," he said, "I'd like that too."

He opened his mouth again to suggest a time and a place when she beat him to it.

"Great! I'll call you!" And she turned and started walking away, looking back and blowing him a kiss as she did, leaving Malcolm to wonder what had just happened, and whether or not she was for real. _It would be nice to meet a person for once who doesn't just insist on calling on me whenever..._ he though, thinking of both Caitlin and Harris. Still, he had started his work for Harris, and considering all the missions he might have been given, this was definitely a step-up.

0000000000000000000000000

Malcolm didn't hear from Caitlin again for nearly two weeks, by which time he thought he'd just been played and while it stung- he had thought they'd had something going that night at the Blue Lagoon- it bothered him mostly because he didn't know how Harris would take it- his first real mission with Section 31, and already he'd failed.

He had just finished doing the graveyard shift in the Armoury, and as it was only halfway through the morning, he felt the need for a coffee before he went for a large breakfast and some sleep.

He had a favourite coffee place on Jupiter Station, and it was a little stall with excellent coffee on the outskirts of the closest thing the Station had to a park- a massive hydroponics section that had been purposely designed to look like one of the parks in San Francisco near to the Starfleet Academy. It had been popular with the Starfleet students on Earth, and the copy here on the Station was massively popular with the people who visited- both of the parks had little shops all the way around selling all sorts from touristy trinkets to clothes and toiletries and gifts. Jupiter Station's 'park' even had lighting to make anyone there feel like they were outside at the correct time according to Earth with air conditioning making a slight breeze in the air too. It was all very well done and because of it, it was just as popular as the original park on Earth was.

He went up to the barista in the coffee stall who was a small lad about Malcolm's size and build by the name of Frances who smiled at Malcolm when he walked up to the counter- Malcolm was a regular customer and they had struck up a friendship, helped by the fact that Frances attended Malcolm's martial arts classes as well.

"G' mornin' Malcolm!" the lilting Irish voice said, greeting him. "An' what'll it be for yah today my man?"

"So long as it's strong and hot, I really don't mind," Malcolm countered, smiling.

"Ah," Frances nodded, knowingly, as he started Malcolm's order. "Bin burnin' the candle at both ends have yah?"

"You could say that, yes," Malcolm admitted, "Graveyard shift."

Frances wrinkled his nose. "Yuck- that is somethin' they'll never have _me_ doin'!" He laid down Malcolm's coffee in front of him.

"At this moment in time, I'm tempted to forget Starfleet and join you!" Malcolm laughed in reply.

There was no one else in Frances' queue so they stopped and chatted for a few minutes about the day so far and about when the next karate competition was go be held. When a couple of other people turned up Malcolm said his farewells and turned, but immediately as he did so, he bumped into Caitlin.

"Malcolm!" she looked genuinely surprised.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." He side-stepped to let her past but she grabbed his shoulder, taking care not to spill his coffee.

"Malcolm," she said again, "I'm the one who's sorry- really very very sorry. I'm not sure what I was thinking the other week- seriously!" she said, when he just looked deadpan at her. "It didn't even occur to me to think that I didn't have your quarters number or anything, and each time I tried to find you at the Armoury, they said you weren't in- I thought I'd behaved so badly that night that you were avoiding me and didn't want to see me again."

Malcolm melted at what seemed to be an honest plea for forgiveness from her.

"May I buy you a coffee?" he asked her.

She smiled an incredible smile which would have almost made him speechless had he not been waiting for a response from her. "Yes please," she said, realised that this was his way of accepting her apology.

With a coffee bought, they strolled together through the park, Caitlin trying to explain that she had been a little tipsy on their date night and that she was eminently sorry and wouldn't he go on another with her?

Malcolm in return, almost spilled his coffee as he realised that what they had had that night in the Blue Lagoon was indeed by anyone's standards, a date.

"I would love to go out with you," he said smiling, but taking a long mouthful of coffee at the same time to try and be cool in front of her. Actually making him and Caitlin a serious item was making him show some of his old nervousness he had in front of women when he was a cadet.

It wasn't until he got back to his quarters that night after a day glowing in delight that he realised what exactly he'd got himself into with Caitlin. This girl was his mission from Section 31- he was supposed to be finding out about her family's life and what they traded in, not making her into a girlfriend. When he reported back to Harris that night though on their communicator, Harris thought very differently- he was in fact delighted.

"Excellent work! This is exactly the sort of thing we're after- it is by far more productive than having to interrogate her." Malcolm agreed with this completely, but what he didn't tell Harris was that the thought of interrogating someone made him feel a bit queasy. It just wasn't in him to be callous towards another living thing. He could do his duty, but callousness was in someone's nature, and it wasn't in his. He felt uneasy, but he'd much rather have the pleasantness of a relationship with Caitlin and save her from Harris' clutches than any alternative. He shuddered as he thought of Harris, and he began again to wonder what sort of man he had become tangled with because of Section 31.

0000000000000000000000000

Several months went by on Jupiter Station, and within their circle of friends, it was very well known that Malcolm and Caitlin were an item. It didn't stop Anna from flirting outrageously with Malcolm, but as she also flirted completely harmlessly with Caitlin as well, there wasn't any tension or awkward situations from that.

As far as his mission went, Malcolm found out from Caitlin everything that Section 31 wanted to know, and each time he reported something that she had told him in confidence, it made him feel greasy and untrustworthy. It was a feeling that went totally against his nature, and yet the next time he saw her again, the feeling was put right to the back of his mind and was replaced with the joy he had at seeing her and spending time with her again.

Nearly a year went by when one evening, as Malcolm was giving his evening report by communicator to Harris about Caitlin and her family's trade did Harris say something that made Malcolm feel sick to the stomach.

"We have everything we need from the girl now. Very well done. Do you feel this to have been a success?" Harris asked him.

Malcolm took a moment to compose an answer, he recognised this as a leading question to which Harris would judge him for the future. "Yes Sir. We have garnered all the information that was required without having to cause either suspicion or damage to anyone."

Harris' tone was neutral. "Yes. And now we need you to do something else."

Malcolm waited dutifully for his superior to continue.

"You have done admirably in developing a relationship with the girl- it was just what was required for the mission. What is next for you to do in your line of duty is to break it off with her."

Malcolm froze, saying nothing.

"This is important. You need to be able to not just perform your duty, but to do it above and beyond the call of duty. That's what it takes to be with us. And if you're not with us, you're against us."

Malcolm heard the visible threat and blinked three times rapidly.

"Break it off with her Sir?" he finally said. "It that absolutely necessary?"

He could hear the malice in Harris' words when he spoke again. This was a callous man, Malcolm realised.

"Believe me, it is best to do as you're told when you're with us. You're doing so well, you don't want to spoil it now over a _girl_ whose family breaks the law with their trading."

"But Sir," Malcolm tentatively added, "I love her. And I know she loves me too."

"Cute, but it won't wash over with me. This isn't the sort of organisation you mess around with."

There was a pregnant pause. The only sound was an antique ticking clock that Malcolm had brought with him and sat on his desk.

"You remember Michael Davies?" Harris said, breaking the silence.

"Yes," Malcolm replied, remembering very well who Michael Davies was, but didn't know why he was being mentioned.

Michael Davies had been a very rich man on Earth only a few years ago- well respected, had anything his heart desired- a businessman with incredible technical savvy and pull with the most powerful and richest people on Earth and several out in space as well. A year or two ago, someone had discovered that he'd been selling business secrets to terrorists and competitors and from there, investigators found out that he was also liable for a massive tax fraud as well. It was the end of the man who was now rotting away in a jail cell for the rest of his life, void of all friends, a man whose family no longer recognised him, except for one daughter who tried to convince the media of his innocence every day, and certainly a man who no longer had anything he desired, money, power, or sway in society.

"He was one of us," Harris said. "A very useful man to have with the connections we need. But he forgot that it was us who kept him safe and in power during each not-so-wisely made business decision and wanted out. We couldn't have that, so the charges against him were fabricated by us. The fraud was surprisingly easy to create."

He paused again, allowing Malcolm to take all this in.

To say that Malcolm was shocked would be the understatement of the century. To think that he had become involved in Section 31, a group that would do all that to a man did indeed make him struggle to keep his evening meal down.

"So you see," Harris continued, "If we can do that to a man like Michael Davies, just think what we could do for you," and to Malcolm, it sounded as if he was smiling, almost as if he was offering a service of only the best quality. "And just think," Harris continued one last time, "If you aren't so willing to let her go, then maybe you've actually been feeding us lies about the girl and we'll have to drag her in after all and all your work would have been for nothing. I'm sure you won't want anything to happen to her."

The obvious threat was left hanging in the air.

Malcolm wiped the sweat from his forehead that he hadn't even noticed was accumulating.

"I understand," he said finally.

"Good," Harris said. "I expect your next report to be a positive one."

He clicked off and Malcolm was left alone with his thoughts. To say that he wasn't scared would be a lie, and Malcolm was man enough to admit that he was. He was very troubled, not least for his own sake, but also because he really did love Caitlin, he wanted to stay with her, but he just couldn't afford anything to happen to her. _Harris made the threat_, he thought. _I'm sure he wouldn't think twice about actually carrying it out. I _can't_ let that happen to her_.

Malcolm hated to admit it, but Harris was actually right. For Caitlin's sake, he would have to let her go though he had no doubt that she would hate him forever because of it.

His hand shook as he reached for the regular comm system on his desk and called her to arrange a meeting.

A few minutes later and they were going to meet the next day in a secluded part of the Station, where Malcolm knew no one would be. She had been confused as to why he wanted to meet there, but hearing his tone, she had known better than to ask then, but to wait until they were together to hear about it. Malcolm knew this about her and it killed him to know it too- he wanted to be with her.

With a lot of apprehension, Malcolm settled into bed, though he slept very badly that night.

0000000000000000000000000

When he walked to meet Caitlin the next day after work, he couldn't help but feel dread deep in the pit of his stomach at what he was about to do.

He rounded the corner to the little area where they were meeting- a little alcove in the hallway with a couple of comfy chairs and a drinking water machine near one of the Science Labs that was usually deserted at this time of the evening.

Caitlin was already sitting in a chair but when she saw Malcolm, she smiled, though it dimmed a little when she saw his far from happy expression even when he saw her.

Malcolm sat down next to her, unconsciously putting his hand over hers when she placed it on his knee.

"Are you alright Malcolm?" She asked him, her smile turning to an expression of concern.

Malcolm didn't say anything, he just frowned at the floor unconsciously, seeing straight through it.

"Malcolm?" Caitlin said again.

She jumped a little when Malcolm breathed in deeply, finally turning towards her but not quite meeting her eye.

"I can't do this anymore," he said to her, quickly. "We have to have a break, go our own separate ways."

"What?" she asked, not quite believing what he had just said- she certainly hadn't taken it in.

"We can't be together anymore," he said, plainly and simply.

Caitlin pulled her hand away from Malcolm's, clutching the armrest on her chair with it, squeezing unconsciously.

"What do you mean Malcolm? I don't understand. You love me, I know you do. And I love you. Last week we were having fun and everything was perfectly normal, and now what's changed? I don't understand." Every other word of hers made her face change from the smile of before to confusion to downright pain as well as confusion.

Her nails were digging into the armrest, Malcolm noticed. He stared at her nails, trying to think of what he could say to her that wasn't 'it's-not-you-it's-me' sort of reasoning.

She reached forwards with those nails, grabbing for Malcolm's hand, gently but firmly and shook it a little, trying to get him to look at her.

"Malcolm, tell me this again. This just isn't you. I know you, what's really wrong?"

Malcolm felt sick and felt his eyes sting with tears that he refused to let her see. So instead of looking at her, he looked at her hand around his. He began to squeeze it in his weakness, but whether she noticed that or not, he didn't know. He stood up, letting go of her hand and it fell, suspended into the air.

It was then that he looked at her. She could see the pain in his eyes and in his whole demeanour, the way his shoulders were slumped, the way his mouth was set, everything.

He looked at her, and Caitlin could see that things were plainly not alright, but that she couldn't change his mind and a small moan of despair was wrenched from her, but she swallowed it down past the lump in her throat that had formed.

"I'm sorry Caitlin," Malcolm said in a very small voice. "I'm sorry. I love you but I'm sorry."

And he turned and left before he broke down before her.

She didn't follow him.

0000000000000000000000000

Malcolm went back to his quarters and collapsed on his bed flinging an arm over his eyes as he did. He didn't want to see anyone or do anything but sleep though that definitely wasn't coming to him.

Instead, he got up and went to the bathroom to the sink to wash his face which felt like it was burning from unshed tears. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror and stared long and hard.

He had decided to go to the gym to let some aggression out that he desperately needed to but first, he needed to school his face into a perfect mask. He spent what felt like a long time just staring at himself making the perfect poker face. He'd always been rather good at it, and it had always come in useful for him, but this was quite hard to do- his thoughts were stuck on Caitlin.

He just about managed it- well enough anyway for him to go to the gym and beat his knuckles red raw. That was a million times better than Malcolm's first idea- that of going to the bar and getting ridiculously drunk.

Before he went to the gym however, he had one chore to do. Contact Harris.

He set up the communicator and the jamming device and opened the call.

Harris answered almost immediately. He was consistent like that.

"It's done," Malcolm said. He knew that Harris would recognise who was talking without him having to make it clear in any way.

"Excellent! That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Malcolm narrowed his eyes. The man truly was a nasty piece of work.

"A good mission, well done," Harris continued, ignoring Malcolm's silence.

"If you say so," Malcolm said through clenched teeth.

Harris also chose to ignore this.

"I will say this to you though: now you know about how hard it is when we become emotionally involved with our missions. This was a lesson for you, and a valuable one for your future. Becoming overly friendly with people- and I mean _really_ friendly, rather than appearing friendly for the sake of the mission- hurts and it's dangerous. As you go on with us, you never will know exactly who to trust and who not to. If you trust no one, then you can't be betrayed. Some people have to learn that lesson the hard way. I've made it easier for you."

He stopped. There was silence. Malcolm certainly didn't trust himself to answer Harris on this last point.

"Now then, there is some leave coming for you Malcolm. I think we should both agree that you leaving the Station would be a good idea right now, don't you?"

On this point, Malcolm had to agree. Here on Jupiter Station, there were far too many places where he and Caitlin could run into each other. It would be more than awkward- it would be painful. For both of them, though she might not know that on his part.

"Yes," was all he said though.

"There is a shuttle leaving Jupiter Station at 0800hours tomorrow morning bound for Earth which you have a seat on. Your leave has already been organised with your work shift in the Armoury, so there is no need to see anyone about that. You can just leave."

It all sounded so easy to Malcolm. Usually it was hard to get leave off the base unless it was for a compassionate reason- family problems, that sort of thing. Yet here was Harris, so easily having it arranged for him.

For that at least, Malcolm felt somewhat grateful to the man.

Without waiting for an answer, Harris just cut the connection. Malcolm frowned, annoyed at the rudeness, but glad that he didn't have to make niceties. A_t least I don't have to say anymore to him. I suspect it wouldn't end well in my current mood_.

He packed the the devices away and left for the gym.

0000000000000000000000000


	3. Chapter 3

At 0830hours the next morning, Malcolm was on the shuttle going to Earth. He had finished up at the gym last night and, realising that he wouldn't have another chance, he went to see Anna. It was late, but he wouldn't have the opportunity in the morning. As a chef, she would be up at the crack of dawn to start the breakfast in the cantine.

She had been almost as confused at the break-up as Caitlin had been. Caitlin had already been to see her as well, which Malcolm found more than a little awkward, but over the year, the two of them had become very good friends indeed outside of Malcolm and Caitlin's relationship.

But Anna did love Malcolm like a brother, they were best friends, so she understood that Malcolm had had some deep reason of his own for breaking it off. Malcolm and Anna were such best friends that she knew about how hard his previous life had been before Jupiter Station, and she figured it was something from way back when that wasn't letting him enjoy his life now with Caitlin. She didn't question it, for which Malcolm was grateful, but she did mourn his happiness for him.

But he was on the shuttle now and as he hadn't had much sleep at all last night, he tried to settle down in his seat for a nap.

0000000000000000000000000

When he landed at Earth's spaceport, his plan was to go directly to the Logan's house to see them. He had called ahead to let them know he was coming. He hadn't seen them in a long time though he had been writing to them and calling them, but he wanted some normality and something of a mother-figure who would molly-coddle him, cook the good food that reminded him of home and just generally make him feel better. They lived not far from San Francisco, and so it was easy for Malcolm to stay with them and head out to visit some old friends in the city during the day and return. He especially wanted to see Admiral Hunter, his favourite tutor from Academy days.

When he got off the shuttle, however, he saw Margaret and Patrick Logan waiting for him. The sight of their faces instantly brought a smile to his face, especially when he saw Margaret waving maniacally at him and Patrick shaking his head, trying to get her to stop attracting so much attention from the passers-by.

Malcolm jogged over to them and was instantly clapped on the back by Patrick and pulled into a bear hug by Margaret who was somewhat shorter than Malcolm.

"Welcome home! Welcome home!" she said, crying and laughing at the same time.

"Good to have you back son," Patrick said, though he words brought a little furrow to his brow. It was their son, Cory- Malcolm's best friend and virtual brother- who had died, and they naturally missed him. "Come on," he said, "Let's be getting you home." And he picked up Malcolm's duffel as he was still being fussed over by Margaret which made him laugh once again.

It all felt good to Malcolm- far away from Jupiter Station, and it was nice.

0000000000000000000000000

He was sitting in the Logan's garden on a sunny afternoon with a gin and tonic and a very good book and it occurred to him that he had become something of a lone wolf. He was quite happy in his own company as that way he seemed to not hurt either himself or anyone else. It was quite a backwards step from all his partying on Jupiter Station- he had tried to be sociable and get to know people, but it still landed him in trouble. Maybe it was better all round that he didn't get to know people that well. Certainly women- that just hurt too much.

He still hoped that Caitlin was alright though.

0000000000000000000000000

A couple of weeks later found Malcolm wandering down his old haunts of San Francisco remembering the ghosts of him and Cory who would frequently walk down these streets.

As he did, he saw the 602 club- a place they had loved to go to to have a pint and laugh over the happenings of the day.

Malcolm found himself wanting to remember some of that time, so he wandered inside for a pint.

He sat at the bar and was served a good bitter which he nursed, musing as he did.

Instead of making himself feel better, his reminiscences made him feel a bit blue.

As he sat there, the barmaid Ruby came over to him, acting in the fashion that barkeeps had for millennia and lending him a willing ear and a shoulder.

"Whassup Malcolm sugah?" she asked him, leaning over the bar to look him in the eye.

Malcolm looked up at her, briefly surprised. He had noticed her of course, but in an off-hand way, and he hadn't realised it was _Ruby_, someone he had often talked to back in his student days, and who he had laughed with on many an occasion.

He looked around. The place wasn't very busy, probably because it was raining outside and most students couldn't be bothered to go out just to get wet that early in the evening.

He shrugged. "Just thinking," he said. "And remembering," he added.

"Ah," Ruby said, knowingly. Everyone knew about the fateful ship of the _Icharus_- Malcolm's first posting and the reason for the death of Cory and several others. There was a memorial for the ship and the crew in one of the parks near the Academy.

"Well now sugah," she said, "I'm comin' off shift real soon, so if you finish up that drink you've bin starin' at forever and come with me for dinner, that would be real good."

Malcolm held up his hands, "Oh, I couldn't. I'm not good company tonight and-"

"I'll not be hearin' it. Come on and do a girl a favour. I hate eatin' alone."

"Ok then," Malcolm said, relenting after not too hard an argument at all. He didn't really fancy sitting here alone anymore with only his thoughts for company.

He sat up, feeling a bit more purpose as Ruby smiled at him and left to finish clearing some tables.

Malcolm downed his pint and turned around, expectantly waiting for her to finish.

"Excellent Malcolm sugah," she said, coming around from the bar where she'd taken a load of glasses to be washed. She went to the staff door, leant around and grabbed her coat of a shocking cobalt-blue to wrap around her crimson red dress. Malcolm smiled. Ruby had always brightened up a place, and not just because of her clothes.

She took his arm and they walked like that to a venue that Ruby loved- a Jamaican place- a cheap but amazingly good local-only sort of place called Hi-Lo. The owner really played up to the Jamaican part with his hair in dredlocks and wearing a multi-coloured rasta hat and was, as Ruby described him, a 'bit of a dude', probably because of his outfit and the fact that he was about sixty years old with incredibly wrinkled skin and grey hair, and yet still retained a youthful vibe about him. He also had a rather off-beat habit of charging you depending on either how much of a regular you were or how rich you were looking that day. Consequently, prices were never set in stone.

He was sitting on the step into the joint smoking what smelled like a joint as Ruby and Malcolm walked in. By the smile he gave to the woman, he clearly knew Ruby well and she him.

As they ate, Ruby kept Malcolm fantastically entertained non-stop with her sparkling wit and her intelligence and her incredible commentary on the people she served at the 602 club. The fact that her looks were intensely stunning also helped greatly and Malcolm couldn't help but notice that many a person in the establishment was giving him a jealous look.

Malcolm knew, as no doubt did Ruby, that most men wanted her and would have given their right arm to be in Malcolm's position at that moment, laughing with her. Most men who came to the 602 club had tried to acquire a date with her but almost no one had ever succeeded.

After all, she was a woman who knew what she wanted. And she usually got it.

The place itself was very loud with something that sounded like New Orleans blues being pumped out of the speakers. Every person seemed to be louder than average and larger than life. The owner had finished his smoke and had ambled back into the kitchen, stopping only to take an order and was now yelling at his wife in the back the latest order in a very gruff and strong Jamaican accent- stronger than Ruby's.

Malcolm had no problem hearing Ruby though- she'd had many years of practice making herself heard in a bar. He though, had to really try and make himself be heard, though Ruby seemed to have no problem in that regard either. He found himself surprised that he was having a good time for the first time in weeks.

They had many a laugh that night and when Malcolm got back to the Logan's, he contacted Harris to ask for another month on Earth to which, and he was very surprised by this, Harris agreed. Malcolm was highly suspicious, but at that moment, he wasn't going to complain.

He then called Ruby, buoyed by the leniency Harris had shown him, and asked her if she fancied going out again. To Malcolm's even greater surprise, she agreed readily. They arranged to meet a few days away to go see a movie that had just come out. Jupiter Station got it's films later than they came out on Earth, so it was a treat for Malcolm to see something so soon from release.

He met Ruby outside the cinema holding the popcorn he had just bought. He hadn't been waiting two minutes before Ruby walked up to him looking unbelievable in a tight orange summer dress and her long curly hair tied back in a simple high ponytail. Malcolm couldn't help himself when he looked her up and down surreptitiously. If she noticed, she didn't make it known to him and only smiled, hooking her arm through his. "Hi Malcolm sugah! I'm so glad to see you. Sorry I'm a bit late- my sister's about to have a baby and I was just seeing her before she goes to hospital tomorrow and gets the little man induced."

"You aren't late," Malcolm said, chastely and suddenly kissing her on the cheek. He turned his face away, feeling a little bashful at the out-of-character moment he'd just had and pulled Ruby inside to see the film.

When they came out with the crowd after the movie, Ruby dragged a willing Malcolm a couple of blocks away to a late-night Lebanese coffee bar for mint tea and baklava to while the evening away chatting some more.

"So the only man you'll ever marry is the one who can guess the names you've picked out for your future children?" Malcolm asked, incredulous but laughing at the same time.

"Well, if a man manages it, then he'll have to have known me very well for a long time- I think it's a good indication of a man who notices the little things!" she replied, laughing as well.

"True, true," he had to agree, shaking his head.

He finished his tea and Ruby ate the last bit of baklava, raising her other hand suddenly to catch the pastry crumbs that fell as she bit in. She licked her fingers, swallowing, and said "want to come home to mine for a last drink and I'll show you that book I was tellin' you about. I really do think you'll like it!"

Malcolm said nothing for a nanosecond, wondering whether going to Ruby's for a nightcap was a good idea, but then he remembered that he was a young and single man, and most men would give their right arm to get into Ruby's apartment. "I'd like that," he said, smiling.

"Great!" she said, and stood up. Malcolm did too, and as she put her arm through his again, she talked as they walked to an area of San Francisco that was renowned for being lively in the best possible way. There were twenty-four hour bars that had live music playing throughout the night and day, while the ever-changing clientèle, depending on the time of day, kept the ambience and vibe live and kicking at all times, the streets feeling like a constant throng of cheerful people. This part of the city felt like a non-stop festival and was incredibly popular for that exact reason.

Ruby and Malcolm went through the streets, both having to talk loudly to hear each other and with Ruby occasionally waving and yelling hullos to people she knew passing by.

This was a wonderful place, and to Malcolm, it reminded him quite a lot of the non-stop streets in Indonesia, especially as it was quite a warm and humid evening.

In the middle of one of the busier streets, Ruby pulled him towards a bar that looked a bit like a greenhouse with glass walls and roof with ornate green painted iron supports and vines and plants growing all over it. One side was glass-free, but had more ornate iron supports creating a decorative railing. That side had a private path going from the gated street entrance to a very beautiful apartment building. This was where Ruby pulled Malcolm to.

She typed her passcode into the keypad and opened the gate, closing it behind Malcolm. She took him to the second floor, letting them both inside.

It was hot inside her place, so she dropped her bag in the hallway and showed Malcolm through to the living room where she opened the balcony doors which overlooked the main street below. The hum of people, nightlife, and music lifted and filled the flat but also let in a slight breeze that was very welcome.

"So what do you think, Malcolm sugah?" Ruby asked, lifting her hands and looking around.

Malcolm looked around as well. She had a mostly open-plan place with a modest amount of furniture. The colours were a spicy orange colour that would be vivid in most homes, but in Ruby's apartment it looked just right making the place look spicy itself and worked perfectly with the atmosphere of the street outside. This was helped by the kitchen that was just off the living room which had herbs and dried vegetables and fruits hanging all over it. The scent of cloves, cinnamon, and pepper filled the place from the kitchen.

"It's perfect," he said.

"Take a seat," Ruby told him, smiling as she turned to a well-stocked bookshelf, kneeling and running a finger along the titles. She found the one she was looking for and pulled it out. She flicked through it quickly as she walked over to Malcolm, now sitting on a comfy sofa covered in cushions and a cream throw. She sat next to him and handed him the book which he took.

"This is the one I was tellin' you about sugah. I think you'll like it." He read the blurb on the back and put it down on his lap, still loosely holding it.

He turned to Ruby, but before he could say anything to her, she leant forwards and kissed him. He was surprised, but didn't hold back. She held his hands and pulled him up as they kissed, the book falling unnoticed to the floor, then she pulled him towards the bead curtain covered doorway at the back of the room leading to the bedroom.

Malcolm opened his eyes the next morning and for a second wondered where he was before he remembered that he'd spent the night with Ruby. He looked over to the other side of the bed but she wasn't there. He listened, but he couldn't hear her in the apartment either.

He sat up looking around as he did for his clothes. The room was light enough from the sunshine coming in from the still-open balcony doors and through the bead curtain for him to do this. He gathered his clothes up and got dressed going through the doorway to stand on the balcony. He crossed his arms and leant on the railings looking down at the perpetually busy street.

Behind him, he heard the front door opening then closing again and footsteps. He turned around and saw Ruby in a long flowing striped red, green, and brown dress carrying a couple of bags with shopping in.

"Goo' morning Malcolm sugah!" she said, smiling one of her most brilliant smiles.

He smiled back and came inside. "Morning Ruby. I didn't hear you go," he admitted, rather sheepishly. It wasn't like him to sleep so soundly.

"You were dead to the world so I couldn't wake you up. I went and got something for a fresh breakfast."

She started to unpack oranges and pastries from the bags and Malcolm's stomach rumbled in response. She laughed and handed him a chocolate chip brioche. He took it while she turned and took a freshly brewed jug of coffee from the machine, the smell of which Malcolm had thought was coming from the café below.

He sat on a bar stool at the counter facing Ruby and took a bite of his brioche.

"I haven't had one of these since I was studying here," he told her. "I'd forgotten how good they were."

"I though' you needed some fattening up- I think you've gone skinny since you've been gone." She placed some orange juice in front of him as well.

As she made herself some breakfast, she looked at Malcolm through lowered eyelashes contemplating him.

"I enjoyed last night Malcolm sugah." She paused. "I wouldn't mind doin' it again you know."

He stopped with the juice halfway between the table and his lips and looked at her. "The cinema, or... _last night_ last night?" he said by way of clarification.

Ruby smiled coyly, looking him straight in the eye. "Both."

He watched her as he took a drink, then set the glass back down on the table. "Me too."

Ruby grinned at him, and he smiled back. Certainly, it wasn't something he'd planned for. He still loved Caitlin, but both he and Ruby both knew what this was, and it wasn't a relationship as such. It was a 'friends with benefits' type thing. They were exceptionally good friends, and Ruby was there when Malcolm needed her. And for this break of his on Earth, she was just what he needed. He thought she knew it too.

0000000000000000000000000

A few weeks later, after seeing each other several times since that first night, Ruby stood in front of Malcolm at the spaceport before he left to return for Jupiter Station and ran her hands up his arms, clasping them behind his neck. His hands went around her waist.

"Malcolm sugah, it's bin absolutely divine being wit' you all this time. Shame you never did figure out the names," she said, winking at him as she said this.

He smiled and shook his head ruefully. "The man who manages it will be extraordinarily lucky." They just smiled at each other for a moment.

"I've had a fantastic time Ruby- you're certainly the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

"Ditto Malcolm sugah," she said, and leaned in to kiss him. He returned the kiss, then pulled away and held her in a hug.

The tannoy announced the imminent departure of his shuttle.

"Now then," she said when they pulled apart, "You go kill them out there honey! You go show that Station what you're all about, as I know fo' sure that you've been holdin' back on all of 'em."

He took a step back, sliding his hands to hers before reaching with his right to get his duffel from the floor. She squeezed his left hand and they both smiled before he turned and left, jogging to his ride back to work.

On the shuttle Malcolm contemplated the last couple of months with Ruby. It had honestly been one of- if not the best- relationship with a woman he'd ever had. It was fun with an intelligent, beautiful, mature and kind woman who didn't expect anything from him and he'd had a beautifully simplistic time. In the very best way.

Malcolm sat back in his seat and smiled, settling down for the ride.

0000000000000000000000000

Malcolm settled back into work pretty well after he'd been to Earth. The weeks passed by and even though he was stuck with Harris and Section 31, Malcolm made more of a deal of his social life- he had Anna to keep him upbeat on the Station, and they both went to parties and socialised a lot more than Malcolm had before. He felt happy and even though he saw Caitlin on occasion in the Mess Halls and in bars and the like, despite there being no communication between the two, or indeed any eye contact, he was- mostly- happy.

He was doing some private research in his quarters- keeping on top of the game when it came to the latest weapons upgrades- when there was a knock on his door. He took a sip of water as he stood and carried the glass to the door.

Anna was outside, leaning against the wall.

"Hi Malcolm! How you doing?" She asked, smiling and standing up properly. "I've got pizza!" and she held up a steaming box.

"Great!" Malcolm said, and stepped aside to let her come in. "No diet today?"

"Nah- have to have a day off every once in a while!"

He closed the door behind her and he put the glass back on the desk. Anna sat on his bed and opened the box. Malcolm grabbed a couple of bottles of beer out of his cupboard and sat on the bed next to her. He flipped the caps off, passing one to Anna who took it and he then took a slice of the pepperoni-laden delight before him.

Anna leaned over to Malcolm's cabinet at the end of his bed for the tv remote control and switched it on to something nonsensical to have in the background. She then scooted around the bed to lean against the headboard, and Malcolm did the same, straining to not drop tomatoey greasy juice on the bedcovers.

"Oh, before I forget," Anna said, "Caitlin is leaving Jupiter Station tonight. She told me yesterday."

Malcolm finished his pizza slice and washed it down with some beer, frowning as he did so.

"It was nice that you two kept in contact after we... you know..." Malcolm tailed off, not wanting to go into the break up. Blessedly, Anna didn't go into it either.

"Where is she going, do you know?" Malcolm asked. He felt a little sickly in the stomach, but he wanted to know. Love, after all, didn't just up and die. Even after two months away.

"A Warp 2 starship, I can't remember the name sorry," Anna said, oblivious to Malcolm's discomfort.

"Mmmhmm" was the only response Malcolm had, though his stomach had clenched slightly.

He reached over for another slice of pizza.

He couldn't help his next question, but he wanted to know. "Did she say anything about me?"

Anna drank some beer. "No, sorry love. She didn't. But she wasn't with me for very long at all- literally just to say goodbye."

They were quiet for a bit.

"So!" Malcolm said, changing the subject entirely, too brightly, but happy for Caitlin that she could at least move on. "I have that movie you wanted to see. Got a copy while I was on Earth." He put the beer to one side and leaned over to the bedside table to get the disk out for Anna to see.

"Ooooh!" She exclaimed, grabbing for it, wiping one hand that she'd licked her fingers of on her trousers. "_Ibis in the Wind_! I've been waiting to see this for ages!"

"I know," Malcolm said, smiling properly again, "that's why I found it for us to watch."

Anna reached towards the tv and put the movie on, and they settled back to watch.

0000000000000000000000000

It wasn't long after Malcolm had returned to Jupiter Station that Harris contacted him again with work to do for Section 31. At the time that Malcolm realised he was being contacted, he had to dive into a cleaning cupboard halfway down a busy corridor.

"I'm here," he said, quietly.

"We have a job for you. There are some documents in an office on the executive floor that we need to see. We want you to get them for us. You'll return them once we're done with them. The details are already in your quarters." And he clicked off, leaving the line silent.

Malcolm sighed, imperceptibly and left the cupboard, getting a strange look from a passing Ensign.

That evening, long after all the offices had been vacated so people could live out their social lives, Malcolm made his move. He left his quarters dressed all in black for his mission, but just in case he would pass by anyone on his way- even at this hour- he made it look casual. He wore black jeans and a turtleneck jumper, his dark hair already able to blend in with the shadows.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and gripped the tiny tools that he might or might not need, checking that he had them, but also to try and appear more casual- as if he were just going for a midnight stroll in the quiet areas of the Station.

It wasn't as if it were unusual for him after all.

He went at a fair pace, but he didn't want to seem as if he were hurrying- even if he didn't run into anyone, there were still security cameras to contend with.

Luckily for Malcolm, the cameras weren't fixed facing one position but instead they turned on an axis to view both ends of the corridors.

Malcolm was going to use this weakness to sneak past and get into the office he needed.

It did of course mean that he would have to be fast. Security here was admittedly lax right now and the office doors were unlocked, presumably as nothing of any consequence was kept here.

But even so, Harris wanted some documents which had been left behind.

_Perhaps hidden in plain sight is the key_, Malcolm wondered, a tactic he understood, but it could be **very** risky if it was **too **in plain sight.

He used the turbolift to get him to the floor he wanted- it was silent. Definitely a 9-5 office job area. He listened and looked around- if the cameras were facing the lift, then he would just pretend to any future questions that he had got the wrong floor accidentally. He saw the camera- it was facing away from him.

He moved out of the lift quickly and moved underneath the rotating camera. It moved towards the lift. He looked ahead and found the next one. To minimise the cost, there were only a few cameras, and none of them had been programmed to work mutually. This meant that Malcolm could move between them quite easily without any of them 'discovering' him. Malcolm shook his head. This was an extraordinarily poor system, and if he were ever to be head of security in any way, anywhere, this would definitely be something he would address. _Absolutely_, he vowed to himself.

He did indeed move easily and efficiently between the cameras and found the office he wanted- it was unlocked, as expected, and he opened it and went through.

It was dark inside, lit only by the illumination of the terminal screen with a Starfleet logo. This was all the light he needed, and he got to work immediately. He checked the desk first. Harris had told him what to look for- a simple red file marked solely and innocently as 'Subjects'.

Malcolm put on the gloves he'd had in his pocket so as not to leave any prints. He'd already brushed his hair thoroughly before he'd left so it would minimise any tell-tale hairs that might fall out and be left behind. He had no idea what the documents he was getting were, and if there were any questions later on, he didn't want to become a suspect through a stupid mistake of his own.

He was silent in every way as he approached the desk. He looked over the desktop which was immaculate- he was impressed though he knew that it was mostly due to the tireless work of the out-of-hours cleaners who kept Jupiter Station clean.

The screen being on was the only obvious clue that the office was used at all at first glance.

He double checked that his gloves were fully on and he tried the top drawer- it was filled with the regular accoutrements of an office- PADDs, pens, pencils, notebooks, and the like. He closed it and opened the second and last drawer- it was filled with paperwork filed nicely on the side and labelled. None of it was a red file, but Malcolm flicked through it all anyway, just in case.

It definitely wasn't there. He closed the drawer, making sure the desk was as he'd left it and looked around. As well as the desk with the computer and a chair behind it, there were two lounge chairs with a coffee table in front of it, several pot plants, an empty waste paper bin and a recycle bin next to it and two filing cabinets.

Malcolm went over to the filing cabinets- the rest of the room was too empty and a quick glance proved that there was nothing left out for him to find. He went through each drawer and eventually found what he was looking for in the third drawer down of one of them- it was just as Harris had described. A red file marked 'Subjects'. He took it out.

Malcolm flicked it open just to make sure there was actually something inside, and closed the drawer. He looked around the office to make sure that he hadn't disturbed anything and went to the door.

He opened it a crack to see the nearest security camera. It was facing away from him so he quickly left and quietly closed the door behind him, ducking underneath the camera.

He carried on the way he had come to get back to the turbolift. It came quickly so he luckily didn't have to wait and hide back under the camera again.

He got inside the lift easily enough and hit the panel to close the doors behind him, clutching at the file.

He selected his floor, and put the file inside his jumper, hiding such an obvious file from sight, though if anyone stopped him on his way back to his quarters, they would probably see the corners sticking out of his jumper in an odd fashion.

He returned without bumping into anyone who either knew him or who was paying any attention to him and once inside his quarters, he removed the file and put it inside his desk drawer. He got out his communicator for Harris and called the man to let him know he had done it.

It wasn't half an hour later when Malcolm had someone at his door ringing the bell. He'd been in the shower. He had to admit to himself that even though it was a relatively easy mission, his heart had still been beating quite hard with the adrenaline. A quick cool shower was just the thing he needed to settle down. He had just dressed again when the door beeped.

He answered it and wasn't surprised when he let Harris into his room.

Without a word from either of them, Malcolm went to his desk and got the file out for his visitor.

Harris took it and opened it, looking through it and scanning the pages.

"What happens when they realise the file has gone? Malcolm asked.

"We'll deal with that," Harris said, nonplussed.

"What are these documents?" Malcolm continued.

Harris finished flicking through them, closed the file and looked up at Malcolm. "There are many things that you will have to do for us where you will never actually know to what end you did those things. This is one of those times. On a need to know basis, if you will forgive the James Bond-esque style."

Malcolm's mouth twitched, but he made no comment. _Maybe it's better if I don't know- I'm not sure I even **want** to know!"_

"Is what I just did actually illegal, or are we covered for that being as the Section is actually set out in the Starfleet articles?" he wanted to know this at least. The things Section 31 had him do were already preying on his mind after all. "I suppose what I want to know is the extent of this questionable legality."

"Questionable legality?" Harris repeated, staring at Malcolm, for once letting his guard down. "Of course we are of questionable legality- every governmental type organisation needs a branch that can do what we do. Do the things that no public person will ever know about- or _want_ to know about, if they're being honest with themselves. Do the things that need doing but officially is completely illegal. It's what we're here for. We were created by the vague language supplied by a lawyer no doubt in a convenient section of Starfleet's charter. They realised the need for someone or something to do the work that has to be kept secret. Hence, us," he finished with some finality.

Malcolm nodded slowly. He **did** see the logic, and he **did** understand the need. Every government for millennia had had a secret arm to do things that were considered 'uncivilised'.

He wasn't proud to be a part of it though, but he knew the necessity.

He also realised that Harris hadn't really answered his question. His mind was troubled.

0000000000000000000000000

A couple of years went by in this way for Malcolm. He was sent on missions for Section 31, doing things like tailing people, spying, stakeouts, finding and copying documents, but nothing was quite as bad as what he'd had to do to Caitlin, for which he was very glad.  
>Malcolm had to admit, that despite his reservations about Section 31, his job was far more exciting than the Jupiter Station Armoury work had been- there he'd been so squashed and censored. With the Section, he had responsibility and freedom. <em>Well, not <em>**freedom**_ as such_, he often reminded himself, _but the ability to be creative about how I get the job done_.

Malcolm was still working in the Armoury, but it was essentially a cursory job only for him in comparison with the Section. His Starfleet superiors had somehow guessed that Malcolm did 'something else' within Starfleet, and it was to do with people so high up in the command chain, that they weren't going to get in the way. They certainly weren't dumb enough to ask questions so ironically, Malcolm's everyday job became easier- he was given more of a free rein. As such, his secret life gave Malcolm a freedom in his regular life that he had never managed to have on Jupiter Station. He started writing papers and doing research of the variety that he used to do whilst he was a student and had bought him so much attention from his tutors. He even had some published while he was on the Station and had requests to make the occasional lecture both on Station and even more occasionally back on Earth as well.

Malcolm knew that if his regular Armoury superiors had their way, they would stamp that down- both his boss, Lieutenant Carraway and the Lieutenant's SIC were attention grabbing and ambitious, passing the work of the crew off as their own. With Malcolm's rising confidence and fame in the security and armaments world though, they had to back away from him. It wasn't normally in Malcolm's nature to gloat, but he couldn't help feeling a very keen sense of satisfaction worming his way out from under their jurisdiction. Malcolm definitely knew though, after all this time, that to get himself to a life where he could properly feel a sense of accomplishment and pride in his work, he would have to make himself stand out from the crowd once again.

0000000000000000000000000


	4. Chapter 4

A month or so later, the Armoury had a new commander leading them. He introduced himself at a Monday morning team briefing.

"Good morning troops, I'm Commander Jackson Warrinder, and I'm your new OIC for Jupiter Station Armoury." He looked around at the few personnel standing in front of him. There were more Armoury personnel than this, but the shift nature of the Station meant that he'd be making this introduction several times today. He paused on Malcolm- he recognised him from a lecture he'd done a few months back to some Starfleet cadets in San Francisco. He carried on though without speaking to Malcolm directly. "I got the impression from the Station Commander that your previous OIC was transferred due to several complaints about him and his SIC. I hope that, should you have any problems with me, you feel that you would be able to come to me directly and speak face-to-face. You'll find me a disciplined but fair man, and I am open to suggestions from you all. I welcome talent and useful skills like creativity here and above all, I want this to be an environment where you can advance and not become stale in the same job year after year. I'm pretty sure none of you **want** to spend the rest of your Starfleet careers here after all." And at this, he smiled.

Malcolm felt instinctively that this was a man who would be far healthier for the Armoury than the last man had been.

"As such," the Commander, who was finishing up said, "I want to schedule meetings with all of you to discuss your futures and how you should be applying yourselves to get further. I've made a list here with provisional times on by all your names, but I realise some of these are out of work hours. If you can't make that particular time, come to me and we'll work something out. I have, after all, quite a few people to get through, as you can imagine." He held up a PADD and put it down on the central table in the Armoury- a large affair that was essentially used as a daily notice board for everyone who worked in the department. "Bottom line is this: You be fair to me, and I'll be fair with you." He looked around at them one last time. "Dismissed."

A few hours later, Malcolm made his way to Commander Warrinder's office. The door was open and the Commander was standing inside reading a PADD. He must have noticed Malcolm's arrival before he had a chance to knock as Malcolm received a "Come in!" before he'd even raised his hand.

He went inside and stood at attention, his vision locked above the Commander's head.

Warrinder put the PADD down and looked at Malcolm. He stayed standing, exuding an air of ex-military.

"Good afternoon Malcolm," he looked at his watch. "Thank you for being so punctual. Sit down." Both men sat on opposite sides of the desk in the room.

"Let's get right down to brass tacks," Warrinder began. "I've seen your work, I've read your papers, and I've heard you lecture. You're damn good and you shouldn't be here wasting away in a pointless job any Ensign could do. I have also been told that you do other, how shall I put this, 'duties', on the Station."

Malcolm grew alarmed as the Commander said this.

"I don't know what they are," he continued, "but I've been told not to ask questions as you're working for the higher-ups."

Malcolm's heart pace steadied again- mostly. The man clearly pulled no punches and said exactly what he thought. _Could be... interesting..._ he thought to himself. _On the other hand, I know exactly where I would stand with this man and at least he isn't going to make it difficult for me. For now._

"Enough of that for now," Warrinder said, breaking into Malcolm's train of thought. "I want you to do more of your research. I want you to make a name for yourself and get out of here to do what you're meant to do. And that's something far more useful. Do you, or do you not agree with me?"

Malcolm held his chin up high. "Yes Sir! I agree with you Sir!" And he really did.

"Excellent," Warrinder said, clearly pleased and smiling. "What are you going to do about it?"

Malcolm knew instantly what to do, and that was to admit and show the work and research he'd been working on in secret in his spare time whilst working in the Armoury, and he told the Commander exactly that. Warrinder's eyebrows shot up. "So you're telling me that on top of all the work you do here, as well as the work you're doing for the brass- don't worry, I'm not baiting you for information- and all the research and general work you've been doing, there is still yet more you've got hidden away?" He sounded genuinely surprised to Malcolm.

"Yes Sir, this is work I enjoy, so I do it in my spare time." He said it quite plainly without any boasting or pride in his voice.

Warrinder sat back in his chair, impressed. "Well then Malcolm. I can see that we aren't going to be able to hold you here for long. I'm going to do some networking for you, see what we can't find for you to do that's more... your style of expertise. Sound good?"

Yes Sir, thank you Sir," Malcolm said, smiling and feeling very appreciated for the first time in his work in a long time.

"Good," Warrinder said. "Right, get back to work and we'll talk again at a later date."

Malcolm stood, came to attention, and left the office.

0000000000000000000000000

Under the supervision and influence of Commander Warrinder, Malcolm flourished. He was taken off any menial duties and put to more and more challenging tasks and was also given positions of responsibility to test him. He had to make and put into practice emergency drills which had previously been lacking, he was also allowed to increase security and monitor and upgrade all of the security cameras that he'd previously thought so lacking in usefulness. He realised that if the Section ever wanted him to do another mission like the one where he'd so easily beaten the cameras that it would now be either impossible to dodge them, or that he'd have to hack into the system that he'd created himself, thereby increasing the chance that he'd be caught because of his own handiwork. He hoped that it wouldn't come to that, but in his spare time, and very secretly, just in case, he wrote a sub-routine that would hide any electronic fingerprints that would lead anyone to him if he had to tamper with the security. He really did not like all this, but he definitely didn't want to get caught.

Besides this and the forever-lingering Section 31, Malcolm's position became far better than it had been- better still when Commander Warrinder called him into his office one afternoon.

"Malcolm, come in."

The Commander stood up to meet Malcolm face-to-face. He was holding a small box. He opened it and showed it to Malcolm who looked down. Malcolm didn't comprehend immediately what it was he was looking at.

Warrinder held out his right hand to shake hands with Malcolm. Malcolm took it, realisation dawning on him.

"Congratulations Lieutenant," he said. They shook hands and Malcolm couldn't prevent the smile on his face from forming.

"Thank you Sir!" he said at last, the words finally forming.

"That's not all," Warrinder said, releasing Malcolm's hand and handing him the box with the Lieutenant's pips inside. "I'm not going to say anything more just now, but hopefully, there'll be someone wanting to talk to you very soon from Earth. I think you'll find what he has to say very interesting, and **very** educational. For now though, you're dismissed. I want you to take the rest of the afternoon off. You've certainly earned it."  
>He shook Malcolm's hand one more time, and Malcolm came to his trade-mark attention stance before leaving his superior's office.<p>

0000000000000000000000000

Malcolm very rarely had time off- apart from his time with Ruby on Earth, he couldn't in fact really remember any other time he'd had off voluntarily. Anna was still in work, but she'd be finishing soon, so he slowly went for a walk to her quarters feeling the slowness of his walk and how strange and alien it felt to him. Because of it though, he got to Anna's quarters at the same time she did.

"I hoped you'd be in," he said as they met at the door.

"Alright love, how are you?" and she leant forwards, giving him a peck on the cheek.

She let him follow her inside. He sat at her desk and absently flicked through a book on her messy desk, vaguely taking in that it had French recipes in with lots of pictures. She went through to the bathroom, though leaving the door open enough so that she could still talk to him as she freshened up and changed into comfortable sweats.

"How's your day been?" she yelled at him, her voice vibrating slightly from the vicious scrub and towelling she was giving her face.

Malcolm paused, smiling slightly to himself, contemplating his day. "Good... I made Lieutenant," he said, feeling like he wanted to yell it from the rooftops, but keeping his tone quiet, modulated.

"What?" Anna came to the door, having not heard.

Malcolm looked up at her, as if rousing himself from a reverie. "I made Lieutenant," he repeated in the same tone, still with the same smile.

"What?" Anna said again, hearing completely this time, but having nothing else to say. "That's incredible!" She managed, flinging her arms around him. "Fan_tas_tic! Hell, where did I put that champagne?" She let go of him and started to look around madly, flinging clothes around. The room was an artistic mess, the walls fairly dripping with artwork- both bought and created by Anna, there were drapes put up around the room strung up with wire, and clothes everywhere with an easel in the corner with photographs pinned to it. "Ah! There it is," she pounced on the mini fridge under her bed and opened it up pulling out a Taittinger.

Malcolm's eyes widened. "Where on Earth did you get that?" he asked.

"Exactly there," she said, "Earth, last road trip. Knew it would come in handy some time, so I've been keeping it stored. Now, let's share it. To our Lieutenant Malcolm Reed!"

0000000000000000000000000

It had been a long day in the Armoury of cleaning out all of the weapons' storage containers. It was a vile, filthy job that had been all hands on deck and always got everyone covered in lubricants and grease used to keep the armaments in the best condition. A tired Malcolm got back to his quarters and immediately stripped off his jumpsuit and collapsed on the bed, ready to sleep.

He was distracted from that though by the blinking light at his terminal- he had a message waiting.

He didn't like to postpone anything, so he roused himself and stumbled over to the desk. He sat down and flicked on the message to the screen.

There was a man there of mid to late thirties, Malcolm guessed, with a very amiable face and a Captain's rank showing on his uniform and vaguely recognisable features. Malcolm raised his eyebrows wondering why a man he was fairly sure he'd never met before was calling him.

The man was sitting upright behind a desk and had his hands folded in front of him resting loosely on the desk. The recorded message started.

"_This is a message for Lieutenant Malcolm Reed of Jupiter Station._

_My name is Captain Jonathan Archer and you may or many not know_

_that I am gathering together a crew for mankind's first ever Warp 5 _

_vessel, the starship _Enterprise_. I have heard good things about you,_

_Lieutenant Reed, and I would like to meet you in person for one of_

_the positions: Chief of Security and Armoury Chief. You come with_

_high recommendations which is why I'm so forthright with you now._

_I'll be honest with you Malcolm, if you're right for the job- and I_

_have complete authority over who I choose for it- I'll deal directly with_

_your superiors to have you reposted to _Enterprise_ from our meeting_

_onwards. Please reply to this message as soon as you get it with_

_either a negative or a positive, but if it's a positive, send me details_

_of when you'll be on Earth and available to meet and I'll tell you where. _

_I hope to meet you soon Lieutenant. Archer out."_

Malcolm's eyebrows raised almost to his hairline- of course! _I __**do**__ know the man!_ he thought, kicking himself- he'd been all over the newsnet. He was going to be the Captain of Earth's first Warp 5 starship! The invitation to be a member of the man's crew- or even to just meet with him- left Malcolm breathless.

He immediately put in a request for leave to Earth to his superiors which was automatically granted by the system- Malcolm very rarely took leave after all.

He sat back in his chair, revitalised after the day. In fact, he felt revitalised for the first time in a long time, as if a weight had suddenly lifted from his chest.

In a week, he would be back on Earth. He sent Archer a message back then and there telling him the details of when he would be arriving to meet him.

0000000000000000000000000

The next day as Malcolm arrived to start his shift in the Armoury, he saw Commander Warrinder talking to one of the new crewmen at a terminal. He walked over to him.

Warrinder saw Malcolm coming and sent the crewman on his way.

"Good morning Malcolm, what can I do you for?" he asked, picking up his mug of coffee from the terminal.

"Good morning Sir, I had a message last night from a Captain Archer." He paused, assessing Warrinder's reaction. The man smiled as if entertained by a private joke for his ears only.

"Ah." Was all he said though. Malcolm wasn't sure how exactly to react to that.

"He's requested a meeting with me on Earth." Malcolm continued.

"Yes, I saw the leave application this morning," Warrinder replied. "It's no problem with me, you going, if that's what you're wanting to see me about." He had a complete poker face on.

There was a beat or two of silence with the two men just looking at each other, the Commander clearly in no rush and looking as if he were almost enjoying himself.

"Captain Archer said that he was messaging me because of high recommendations." He paused again. Commander Warrinder still let nothing on. He was clearly enjoying Malcolm's torment, though in a companionable way. _If he weren't my superior, I have a strong suspicion that we could have been great friends_, Malcolm had frequently thought to himself.

"Was it you who gave him the recommendation?" Malcolm finally asked.

Warrinder kept the poker face for a beat longer then let himself relax into a grin. "You caught me- yes, it was. I told you I wouldn't let you rot here for too long didn't I?"

Malcolm was speechless. "Thank you Sir!" he said, almost by reflex, though the thought behind the reflex was genuine.

Warrinder seemed to realised this but didn't say anything about it. "Go to Earth and meet Archer. He isn't just a ticket out of here- he's a whole new life for you. Make a name for yourself and have a damn good time doing it too."

Malcolm nodded, he had realised this too. "Yes Sir, I will Sir. Thank you."

"Just remember me when you're rich and famous. Here and now though, there's a programme that needs sorting out in the Station alarms."

0000000000000000000000000

Six days later, Malcolm arrived at the Starfleet offices and knocked on the door he'd been directed to, labelled simply as Conference Room 6.

"Come in!" came the voice from inside, to which Malcolm immediately responded. He entered and saw a man standing behind a desk in the corner of the large room. There was also a large table with several chairs around- at least twenty with a big screen on the wall at the end of it. This was empty. Malcolm went towards the occupied individual desk that the Captain was at and came to attention in front of it.

"Sir!" he said as he stood steadfast.

"Good morning! I'm Captain Jonathan Archer," the man said, coming around the desk and offering his hand in a welcoming gesture and tone. He smiled, genuinely.

Malcolm looked at him, then at the offered hand, then came out of his moment of stupor and took the man's hand, shaking it. Archer gestured to the seat as he took his own chair on the other side of the desk from where he'd come around.

"Take a seat," he said. Malcolm did.

Once both men were sat, Archer took a file from the top of a stack of files and opened it.

Malcolm suddenly thought about when he'd had his first 'interview' with Harris- the comparison between him and Archer almost made Malcolm smile and, were it not for the fact that this interview could well change his life, he might have done.

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Armoury officer on Jupiter Station," Archer said, looking up to get confirmation from Malcolm who nodded.

"Yes Sir."

"I prefer an informal setting, so I had a small table brought in here- much less foreboding than using a giant and unnecessary conference table, don't you think?"

Archer carried on without really waiting for a reply. "You have incredible recommendations from your tutors from Starfleet Academy and also from your superiors on both the _Icharus_ and from Jupiter Station. I'm a friend of Admiral Hunter's and when I said that I hadn't yet found an Armoury and Chief of Security Officer for the _Enterprise_, he immediately recommended you. When I started asking around, Commander Warrinder almost tripped over his own ass to show me your files!" Malcolm found himself blushing at this, and was immediately annoyed with himself for that. Archer looked at him, smiled, and carried on. "I've been reading through your papers from the last few years, and I have to say that your work is of top quality. I have to admit that I am a pilot, and so most of what you've written went straight over my head, but I would like to talk shop with you about your ideas. But please- put it in layman's terms for me?" He smiled at Malcolm, who found himself almost charmed by the man who could so easily put you at ease. The fact that this was a Captain being so easy-going though made Malcolm instantly nervous- too much time with Harris would do that to a person. But when he spoke, he spoke with clarity, and impressed Archer with his knowledge and his ability to talk about the most complex weaponry and security upgrades in simple terms but without sounding patronising.

Archer was impressed with the small man sitting in front of him. He was clearly nervous, but very serious about his work, and enthusiastic which was **such** an important quality in a good officer. It just wouldn't work if there was someone on his team who didn't give a damn- Trip would agree with him too.

Captain Archer sat at his desk and regarded Malcolm for a moment. He had known even before he met Malcolm that he would be wanting him as a part of his crew- both Admiral Hunter and Commander Warrinder never exaggerated and so when they told Jonathan about the young man Reed, he knew he was just right. But Archer was a big fan of meeting people face-to-face to get a proper feel of a person's character- and he'd not been let down.

Eventually, he spoke up. "You'll have a lot of work cut out for you Lieutenant- calibrations will need to be seen to regularly, and there aren't even any phase cannons yet. They will have to be sorted out at a later date."

He paused, still looking at Malcolm whose vision had gone from just above Archer's head, to looking him in the eye with the most subtle look of anticipation and excitement in his expression. But it was so subtle just then, Archer decided, that he might well have been making it up.

"Yes Sir," was all Malcolm said. "I look forward to it Sir."

Archer nodded, smiling as well and looking happy with the man sitting at rigid attention in front of him. "I'm glad to hear that Lieutenant Reed. I will review our interview and contact you sometime today with my verdict. How does that sound?"

Malcolm blinked for a second. In his experience, superiors didn't ask you if their decision was alright by you.

"Er- that will be fine by me Captain," he said.

"Great!" Archer said, standing up and reaching out to shake Malcolm's hand again.

Malcolm hesitated again for a second, but this man wasn't his direct superior yet, so he stood up and moved his hand to clasp Archer's and was caught very off-guard when the Captain's other hand came around to clap Malcolm on his shoulder as well.

"Keep near a communicator," Archer said, "I'll be calling you soon!"

He let go of Malcolm and beamed at him so, having been put completely off-guard by this man, Malcolm automatically came to attention as a mark of respect, then did a perfect about-turn and practically marched out of the room.

0000000000000000000000000

When he got back to his rented room reserved for Starfleet personnel, cramped though the space was, Malcolm started pacing. He couldn't help himself, and it was quite out of character for him, but he felt quite restless, and he couldn't go to the gym- he'd promised Captain Archer to stay where he was contactable and he didn't have his portable communicator with him, so that meant staying right here.

It was a half-hour of solid pacing and time checking with a rising feeling of excitement when Malcolm heard the beep of an incoming call on the communicator. He almost dived to it to answer it.

"Malcolm!" he heard Archer's ever-optimistic voice on the other end. "I very much hope you're ready to join us on a mission of space exploration!" he said, and Malcolm could hear the grin in the other man's voice.

"Sir?" was all he said though.

"You have the job with flying colours- I want you to be _Enterprise_'s Armoury officer and Chief of Security. What do you say?" The man seemed to permanently exude hope.

"Yes Sir. I would very much like to join the crew Sir," Malcolm said without a moments hesitation.

The last half-hour of excitement had proven to him that this was what he'd wanted to do when he had first joined Starfleet. And the first Warp 5 vessel too! Yes, he was absolutely certain that this was what he'd always wanted to do.

"That's great Malcolm! It's all hands on deck now though- literally. You have to report to _Enterprise_ from the Starfleet port where there'll be a shuttle waiting for you in two weeks- I'm sending the details to you now." Malcolm looked down as he saw the data downloading to his terminal. He flicked it on and had a quick scan.

"I have that now Sir," he confirmed.

"Can't wait to see you again Malcolm- this is going to be one helluva ride!"

And he clicked off.

Malcolm looked at the data again that Captain Archer had sent him and properly read it through.

He was excited, very much so, but now he had just two weeks to get everything into order and somehow get through to Harris that he was leaving. Hopefully, on the one and only Warp 5 vessel where everyone would have to have been vetted half a dozen times, plus there would be relatively few people, odds were that Malcolm would be safe from Section 31, but he didn't really believe it. He made up his mind that he would have to keep a very keen eye on everyone on board his new ship.

0000000000000000000000000

The next day, Harris happened to 'accidentally' run into Malcolm in the park outside Starfleet Academy. Malcolm had been walking there for some time enjoying the clement weather before he'd be inside a ship for a while. He had barely noticed when Harris jostled his shoulder. As Malcolm turned to apologise for not looking where he was going, his heart jumped a beat when he saw the man. He hadn't realised he was on Earth.

"I see that Archer has requested you come and see him about being an officer on board his new ship." Harris said. It was sudden, and it wasn't a question.

"Yes," Malcolm replied. "I told him no."

Harris raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him. "Are you sure that's what you told him Malcolm? After all, I think we both know that that is a job that you would really quite enjoy."

Malcolm nodded. "Yes, but I remember what you told me about Michael Davies."

Harris smiled, a mirthless, cold smile. "Ah yes, I did tell you about him didn't I. Good, well, I want to be seeing you again, as we have the opportunity to do so while you're here on Earth. I have a new mission for you."

He stopped, looking around the park at the people having fun and the students studying in the sunny weather. "Nice to not have to use communicators sometimes." He looked back at Malcolm as if he were assessing him. "I'll see you around. Soon."

"Goodbye." Was all Malcolm had to say.  
>Harris turned and disappeared through the park crowds.<p>

Malcolm watched him leave then turned in the opposite direction and released the breath he'd been holding in relief. Lying to Harris was almost impossible, but he thought that he might just have managed it.

He immediately went back to his quarters and wrote to Harris a brief note telling him he was leaving Section 31 and that he wanted nothing more to do with the organisation. He put a time-stamp on it so that Harris wouldn't receive it until _Enterprise_ was due to leave spacedock, and sent it.

He collapsed back in his seat, his heart pounding, but with relief pouring through him. He'd worked for that man for a ridiculous amount of time, but he had thought that he would never be free of him. That admittedly did remain to be seen, but it wasn't as if the _Enterprise_ would be getting a lot of visitors out in unexplored space.

He got up and went to the bathroom, getting a drink of water as he did. When he returned, he saw that there was a message waiting for him on his computer terminal.

His heart almost came out of his chest, it was pounding so much. For a second, he wondered if he hadn't put that time-stamp on the message to Harris, even though he also knew that he'd checked it three times before he sent it.

He went over to the desk and opened up the message. He almost felt like crying when he saw it was from Archer. He played the message.

"_Malcolm- I hope you don't have any plans between now and the launch _

_because we have to leave to leave early. We have a mission from Starfleet_

_that is quite urgent. I want to see you on board by the end of the day- _

_shuttles are leaving for all _Enterprise_ personnel all day. Sorry I couldn't_

_let you know this in person, but I'm having to find our linguist before we _

_leave. I hope you're looking forward to this Malcolm- see you later! _

_Archer out." _

Malcolm switched off the terminal and looked around his room. He had very few belongings with him, so he got out his duffel and packed them up within ten minutes.

He sat at the terminal and set up a commication line to Jupiter Station Armoury. Being a Starfleet line, it was quite a fast set up considering it was going halfway around the solar system.

It wasn't long before the communication was set up and Commander Warrinder was on screen. "Malcolm," he said. "How's Earth?"

"Er... Captain Archer wants me today. If it's all alright with you of course Sir."

Warrinder nodded. "I suspected as much. He's already spoken to me. I'll have your belongings packed up and sent to your next of kin. If I've got this right, that would be the Logan family, correct?"

"Yes Sir, thank you Sir."

Warrinder smiled. "Go and do me proud, really make something of yourself- and enjoy it. That's an order."

Malcolm smiled. "Yes Sir."

"I'll speak to you soon- let us know how it goes- it'll be an interesting ride, to say the very least."

"Will do Sir," Malcolm promised.

Warrinder nodded. "Jupiter Station out."

The screen changed to the Starfleet logo and Malcolm flicked it off, standing up.

He checked his room and left, checking out of the Starfleet quarters with the Mess Manager and immediately went to the spaceport to catch the shuttle to _Enterprise_ and his new life.

0000000000000000000000000

Harris looked at the letter on his desk computer that had recently come from Malcolm Reed. He turned towards the man standing in front of his desk, a secretary of sorts with whom he'd been discussing the it.

"So what would you like me to do Sir?" He asked Harris. "Would you like me to return Reed to you for a questioning, or would you like me to see to him myself?"

The corner of Harris' mouth curled up slightly and his eyes narrowed in a menacing way but also in a way that showed that he was enjoying this predicament.

"No, leave Reed for now Jefferson," he said, "having an operative on Earth's first starship out in space, however unwilling, will be useful."

"Yes Sir. Will there be anything else Sir?"

"No, you may leave."

Silently, Jefferson left leaving Harris at his desk.

Harris sat there, staring out of the reinforced plexiglass window, steepling his fingers in thought. The smile was still on his lips, enjoying his thoughts.

"You can run Malcolm, but you certainly can't hide."


End file.
